O, I Am Fortune's Fool
by Darkness Be Mine
Summary: Romeo and Juliet was supposed to be easy. Act, get an A, everyone goes home happy. But Tristan DuGrey always had a way of changing things... What might have happened had Tristan stuck around.
1. Setting The Scene

Rory yawned as she stepped off the bus, her aching feet hitting the pavement with a less than enthusiastic jarring sensation in her knee; a knee that was currently cursing her for a thoughtless action. Despite the knee and its complaint against her, Rory probably couldn't have been much happier than she was. Things were going well for her at home… Things were always going well for her at home, with very few exceptions. She and her mother got along famously, and many had trouble believing that their's was a mother/daughter relationship. Those who'd only just met the two thought that perhaps Lorelai was an older sister.

Other than her relationship with her mother... there was her mother's relationship with Max. Granted, his being a teacher at Chilton was a little awkward, but things had eventually settled down, and seeing him around was not as bad as it had been at first. At least now that the two were engaged.

Then there was her relationship with Dean. It had hit a snag recently, when she had been unable to return his statement of love to him, and he'd gotten annoyed and stormed off. They'd broken up, she'd wallowed, she'd tried to get over it, Dean had come to Chilton, she'd told him that she loved him too, and things were back to normal once again.

Speaking of normal, she felt herself tense as she passed Tristan DuGrey, getting out of a sleek convertible in the parking lot, looking just as terrific as usual. She knew that he was good looking. Readily admitted it, in fact, and he was. A drop dead gorgeous, arrogant, insufferable jerk who liked to torment her ruthlessly. As she was awaiting the normal greeting of a name that wasn't her own, Rory was left stunned and confused when he merely glanced her way before turning and walking off, nonchalantly making his way over to a vast group of friends. A very popular, drop dead gorgeous, arrogant, insufferable jerk.

She realised then that she had stopped dead in her tracks, staring at him in total disbelief that he had given up an almost perfect opportunity to torment her some more.

"Oh poor Princess was given the cold shoulder," an irritatingly familiar voice mocked her from behind, and Rory turned with a sigh to see Paris standing there, watching Tristan as he joined his friends and moved off into the school. "He's over you, Princess. Get used to it."

And Paris pushed past her, needlessly nudging her sharply with a shoulder. Obviously she was still not over the whole concert thing. But thoughts of Paris soon disappeared from Rory's mind, as it returned once again to the oddity of Tristan leaving her alone. It was new and different, and as all things new and different, it had captured Rory's attention. Thinking about it a second, she started smiling. This year was heading off to a good start.

------

Rory was in good spirits as she entered her Lit class, seating herself in the middle row; direct centre. The perfect spot to learn, she figured, although how this made any difference was really beyond even her intellect. It just seemed to make sense on a different level, and that was how the Gilmore's lived their lives.

She tried to suppress a groan when Tristan sauntered into the classroom, before remembering that he was ignoring her presence, and lightening up again. This year really was going to be fantastic.

Or not, she amended when Paris followed on Tristan's heels, her eyes snapping immediately to Rory's as though to accuse her of being there. It wasn't her fault, Rory thought to herself almost indignantly, before forcing herself to relax. If she let every single unfair action of Paris' get to her, she'd spend most of her year rubbed the wrong way, and very temperamental. There was one fantastic way of getting back at Paris however, and without even thinking twice, Rory turned in her seat to Tristan, who was, conveniently enough, seated directly behind her.

"Hey Tristan," she greeted him, and only a slight rising of his brows on his forehead showed his surprise at the address. However, he just replied with a slight inclination of his head, his blue eyes meeting hers only a moment.

"Rory."

And he turned to speak to one of his mates sitting beside him, discussing something awesome that had happened over the holidays. Some party. This was not what made Rory turn back, startled, to face the front of the class again.

Rory. He had called her Rory.

She noticed Paris' smug smile, but didn't even react to that; still in shock. He'd called her by her actual name. It had to be the first time. Ever. He'd never called her Rory. Not even when they'd been attempting the whole 'friends' thing.

This year was going to be interesting.

------

"Wow! That's a face for radio!" Lorelai quipped upon Rory's arriving at Luke's. "What's got you all in a pickle?"

"Hardly appropriate, mother. I think you missed the point of that sentence."

Her mother shrugged. "Okay... What happened?"

Rory nodded. "Not bad, though hardly up to your usual standard."

Lorelai's brows rose. "I'm being graded on the way I talk? Nazi!"

Rory shrugged. "Hie Hitler it mother dear, or you'll get no answer."

Lorelai pondered a moment, before a grin erupted onto her face. "What's got you looking like Bambi, post-gunshot?"

Rory made a face. "That poor little deer."

"And so are you. What's up?"

Rory just shrugged, seating herself with a sigh. "Nothing much. It's just been a long day."

"You made me think up the Bambi question for a 'long day'? Oh that's mean."

"And as you put it yourself, this is Nazi Germany. Nothing's fair, baby."

Lorelai pouted, before turning to the counter and raising her voice over the faint chatter of the little diner's other patrons. "Luke! Coffee for my little Bambi here!"

"You do realise that Bambi's mother gets shot?" Rory asked her, brows rising to her forehead. "So calling me Bambi is hardly encouraging."

"You'll miss me that much?"

"Who'll buy me coffee?"

"I'm leaving everything I have to you!"

"Well bring on the hunter!"

Luke appeared at that moment, and Lorelai glanced up at his stern face with a smile. "And speaking of hunters, don't you think Luke could pull off the look?"

Rory looked up to study the sullen face, and assumed a look of deepest study. "Give him a gun... and perhaps a different hat... You killed Bambi's mother!" she exclaimed, her voice echoing through the small room.

Lorelai gasped, looking up at him in horror. "You killed me? I thought we were friends!"

Luke just gave her his usual look of amazed disbelief. That look that communicated his utter confusion as to just what it was they were talking about, as well as a worry for the two women's sanity.

"I've got a business to run," he shot at them sullenly, before making his way back behind the counter.

"Now is it just me or is he being a lot more sullen than usual?" Lorelai asked; frowning as she studied the man she had been able to banter with easily at one point in time. Things had changed now that she was with Max. It seemed as though there was never any time for them to do so. She suspected that she was busy a lot more now; had more demands on her time, and therefore less time to spend with him. Drifting apart.

"I can't drift!" she burst out.

"Drifting's fine."

"But not away from friends."

"No. Away from friends is not good. Away from boyfriends is even worse," Rory commented vaguely, her eyes focused somewhere outside. Lorelai started, glancing at her daughter with narrowed eyes.

"I am not dating Luke," she told her fiercely, and Rory looked surprised.

"No you're not. You're engaged to Max."

"Exactly."

"And I'm dating Dean."

"I know that too."

"You caught that, did you?"

"You were only making out in front of my bedroom window..."

"We weren't making out."

"No... You weren't... You guys never get that into any kiss. It's all just sweet and romantic with you two!"

"What? You'd prefer it if we made out?"

Lorelai looked shocked at the question. "Of course not! I love my innocent little Rory! I wouldn't change her for the world! It keeps me sane..."

"But?"

"But I'm starting to wonder if you're my daughter."

Rory laughed at that. "Well there's the coffee thing."

"True."

"And the sense of humour..."

"Also true."

"And..."

"And?"

"Give me a moment..."

"You guys look the same?"

It was a new voice, and Lorelai looked up, startled, to see her daughter's boyfriend.

"Now don't you be getting any funny ideas, Dean," Lorelai told him, frowning.

"Huh?"

"Don't you go mixing the two of us up, cause as adorable as you are; I think you're a little too young for me."

"Mum!"

"What?"

"That's gross!"

"Well he said we looked the same!"

"Okay you look similar... Like you're related."

"Much better!" And Lorelai was smiling happily. "Did you want to join us?"

Dean shook his head. "No. Actually Rory and I were going to go for a walk."

"This is true?" And Lorelai managed to look betrayed. "You're abandoning me?"

Rory nodded. "We're only just back together..."

"Ah, yes... The whole 'I love you' incident... No worries. Just don't go make out in any dark corners..."

Rory laughed, shaking her head in dismay, with Dean standing by her shoulder with a bewildered smile on his face.

"Sure thing, Lorelai."

Lorelai slumped in her seat, a petulant look on her face as Rory rose from the table. "Now what am I going to do?"

Rory shrugged. "Go make peace with Luke."

"But the hunter kills Bambi's mother!"

"Well then it was nice knowing you!" And without another word, Rory took Dean's hand and pulled the bewildered young man from the diner.

"Do I want to know what that was about?" he asked her when they were outside, brown eyes confused.

She shook her head. "Trust me. You don't."

Dean chuckled. "I trust you. I know better than to inquire about anything with you girls. More than likely I'll be told something that confuses me even more, and then I wonder why I wanted to know in the first place."

Rory grinned, turning to him, and taking the open front of his jacket in her hands. "Have I told you how much I missed you today?" she asked, rising to her tiptoes to press a soft kiss on his lips.

"No," he replied with an equally goofy smile, returning the tender kiss. "But I bet I missed you more."

------

Rory yawned, realising that she'd been doing that quite a lot recently since starting again at Chilton. Then again, she wasn't really surprised, because very few teenagers found school interesting, and although she took great pride in her great scores, and made sure she did enough studying, Rory was no exception. It was just that Chilton was no longer the hell that she had once thought it to be.

When nothing memorable had occurred during their first couple of weeks back, Rory had settled down into the normal routine of schoolwork, and sitting around in the cafeteria by herself. It wasn't an essentially interesting existence, but it was a way to live, and Rory did it better than most.

Now however, her class had been given the assignment of performing one of the Acts of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, and somehow she had been placed into a group with Paris, Madeline and Louise. Why the teachers had it out for her, she didn't know, but she expected that her time with this group would be complete torture.

As she approached the group, she noticed that there was a boy she didn't know seated with Madeline and Louise at the table, and she didn't recognise him from their class.

"Hey," she greeted the group, and when Madeline replied with quick "Hey" back, Louise added in a sing-song voice, "We're the Monkees."

Rory managed to look confused and amused at the same time before turning to the boy seated next to her.

"Hi, I'm Rory."

"I'm Brad," was his almost timid reply. It seemed he wasn't comfortable in the company of a group that would soon include Paris, and Rory wasn't surprised. Not many people would want to get within metres of the studious young woman. She rarely made anyone's day pleasant. "From third period Shakespeare," he added, almost as a plea for help. He didn't want to be here.

"He's the answer to our 'lack of boys' problem. Isn't that swell?"

Rory almost winced at the look of submission on the boy's face. She had never liked it when people could be so intimidated by people around them.

"Well, maybe we should start," Rory spoke firmly, attempting to change the subject and succeeding, she realised when Madeline and Louise shared a look.

"Without Paris?"

"Ooo... That could be lethal."

Rory shot them a look of annoyance. "We could at least decide on what motif we want to do."

Another voice interrupted whatever Madeline might have said to that, and Rory turned slightly in her seat to see Paris walking in carrying a box.

"We're doing traditional Elizabethan."

"Elizabethan?" Rory began, frowning. "But I thought the point of this was to..." But seconds later she was interrupted.

"The point is to get an A, not to make Romeo and Juliet into a Vegas lounge act," Paris shot back. "Besides," she continued in a more even tone of voice. "We have the death scene. It's classic, it's famous," and then she finally seemed to notice that Brad was sitting with them. "Who are you?"

Brad shot up straight in his seat, as though an army cadet at attention. "I'm... uh... Brad. From third period Shakespeare, ma'am."

Paris just watched him for a second with an unreadable expression on her face before seeming to dismiss the whole thing. "Okay. Now I want everyone to read the chapters on acting I photocopied out of Houseman's Memoirs tonight. Everyone will be off book by Friday, and if you plan on missing rehearsal, you better bring a coroner's note."

Brad looked slightly fearful of the threat, while the rest of the assembled merely took it in their stride as Paris place a sword on the table in front of her. They were used to Paris like this; it was hardly different from her usual self.

Rory glanced at the sword a moment before frowning slightly. "Tell me you didn't just have that lying around."

As Rory had known she would, Paris merely ignored her, and continued speaking, glancing a moment at Brad. "We're short on boys. That makes you Romeo," and Brad looked terrified at the very thought. "Louise, you can play the Friar."

Louise looked insulted by the suggestion, her brows rising on her forehead as she shot a look at Paris that might have frozen just about anyone else. "Excuse me?"

Louise was saved from Paris' wrath when Tristan entered the room and seated himself at their table, looking around with amusement, his eyes seeming to skip Rory completely as he continued to glance around the table. Rory noticed this behaviour and frowned, while Paris managed to look slightly pleased at his lack of attention, despite looking irritated by his sudden appearance.

"Well, well," he quipped. "The gang's all here."

Paris merely looked at him with daggers. "This is a meeting."

Tristan just smiled, before assuming an apologetic posture and expression. "Yeah. Sorry I'm late." Then he looked around, as though expecting them to continue. Probably the only ones who weren't wishing he would evaporate into thin air were Madeline and Louise, who always welcomed Tristan's attention, and Brad, who had just realised that he may not have to play Romeo after all.

"What do you think you're doing?" Paris demanded, the scowl on her face deepening.

Tristan managed to look honestly surprised at her animosity, and just watched her a moment before replying hesitantly. "Uh. Professor Anderson forgot to include me when she made up the groups, so she told me to pick one."

"Fine," Paris replied snappily. "You have four other Acts to choose from. Take your pick."

Tristan looked almost embarrassed, but still not quite achieving the expression as he replied. "Yeah... Well Summer's in Act One, Beth and Jessica are in Act Two, Kate's in Act Three, and uh... Claire, Kathy and Mary are in Act Four," he explained, and when Paris looked confused, he elaborated helpfully. "So this is the only one free of ex-girlfriends."

Rory watched him carefully, frowning at him when Paris replied. "So we're being punished for our good taste?"

Tristan's brows rose to his forehead, and he brought his hand to his forehead in an elaborate and over-dramatised show of despair. "Oh Paris, you hurt me! Do you no longer have any need for me at all?"

Before Paris could reply to such a statement with what might have been a really good, snappy and sarcastic response, Louise interrupted.

"Yes! We have great need. You can be our Romeo."

Rory was startled by the sudden announcement, and burst out, "Brad is Romeo." This drew a brief look from Tristan that Rory could not define and a look of naked fear to the eyes of Brad who glanced quickly at her in a panic.

Louise just shot her a patronising look. "Put in your other contact Grandma. Tristan is Romeo. Brad can be the second guard on the left."

"No."

It was a blunt statement of rejection with no emotion at all, and everyone looked at Paris' determined face. No one might have said anything to that; no one but Madeline.

"She's kinda right, Paris. Tristan was born to be Romeo."

But Paris was not in any mood to agree with either of her friends. "Hey!" she snapped, looking angrily from Madeline to Louise and then back again. "I'm the director and I'll decide who's born to be what! And Brad is Romeo."

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

It was spoken quietly by Louise, just loud enough to be heard, and the entire table turned to look at the daring young woman. It was very few people who would stand up to Paris in such a mood, not to mention refer blatantly to her feelings for Tristan in front of him.

"What'd you say?"

Her voice was low and dangerous, but Louise continued nonetheless, standing firm in the face of her friend's anger. "Just perhaps that someone is letting her personal feelings interfere with her leadership."

"My only feeling is that I don't want to give the most important part to someone who can't even manage to stay in school."

But Louise was undaunted. "I'm just going to say one thing: Fifty percent of our final grade."

Paris frowned, her face furious, while Tristan watched the conversation with what seemed to be growing interest. Rory was confused a moment, before he revealed his thoughts and she was disgusted with him all over again.

"Is there going to be any scratching involved, or is this just a verbal thing?"

Paris seemed stumped a moment as she looked from Louise to Tristan, and finally her eyes, dark with anger, fixed on Rory.

"What do you think about this?"

All eyes turned to Rory, and most wondered what it would be that the sensible young woman would say. To them, she was a Mary. Innocent and striving for perfection. She would have an objective view on the whole thing. Rory, true to their belief, knew exactly how to settle this. She turned to Brad.

"Well, how are you at speaking in front of a lot of people?"

Brad looked fearful, and swallowed a few times before answering in a weak voice. "I tend to throw up."

Paris sighed, and Madeline and Louise looked triumphant.

"Fine," she agreed snappily, before rounding on Tristan. "But I swear, you flake on this and you'll pray you get suspended."

Tristan might have reacted more playfully with Paris' angry threat, but he was glancing at his watch, and rose from his seat in a single fluid movement. "I gotta run," he announced to them all, and smiled brightly; a smile only Madeline and Louise returned. "Are we done here?"

"Rehearsal. Tomorrow night," she informed him as he moved to leave. Before he could however, Louise was speaking again.

"Good. So now Brad can be Friar Tuck and I can be Juliet."

But Paris' voice was firm. "Wrong."

"Hey!" Louise cried out, petulant, but before she could continue, Paris rode over her.

"Juliet's supposed to be chaste."

Louise slumped in her seat. "Oh."

But Madeline sat up then, raising one finger in the air. "Then..."

"And she has more than three lines," Paris added, and Madeline followed the move performed by her friend only seconds earlier.

"Oh."

When she realised where this was going, Rory sat up at attention, looking stunned and shaking her head vigorously. "Oh no."

"Too late," Paris shot back.

"It can't be too late," Rory replied, her voice almost panicked as the three girls looked on it annoyance, Brad looked on in fearful attention, and Tristan watched with a vague expression of concern that seemed incredibly out of place for him. "We haven't done anything yet."

But Paris was having none of it, and frowned at her. "You're Juliet. You're the best public speaker here, you've definitely got that waif thing down, and you'll look great dead," Paris reasoned, before turning her attention elsewhere. "Next order of business," she began as Tristan left the room with a slight frown turning down his lips, and an expression of consternation pulling at his brows which Rory couldn't help but notice. "I did some location scouting this morning, and I think the courtyard outside..."


	2. Please Leave Dean Alone

After the drama of being made Juliet to Tristan's Romeo, things went from bad to worse with their production, one of the most concerning being that when Paris found out that other groups were using her idea of commandeering the courtyard to practice in, she booked a hall that just happened to be in Star's Hollow. Miss Patty's dance hall. Adding to this drama was the fact that Rory had not informed Dean of the fact that she and Tristan had kissed at Madeline's party.

The sudden realisation that the two might bump into one another during their practices at Star's Hollow drove Rory almost to the brink of panic, only to be calmed down at the last moment by her mother's infallible, if sometimes confusing logic.

Lorelai informed her daughter that it was inevitable that the two would meet again, especially considering the fact that Dean had informed her that he wanted to come to the play on the Sunday night. She even went as far as suggesting that for the moment Rory not inform Dean of the fact that she had kissed Tristan the night after Dean had told her that he loved her. Lorelai knew Dean well enough to know that Dean would not take the news well, from past examples of his obvious trust issues. He cared so much for Rory, and was terrified that she didn't care for him even half as much. It was something that he did not have to worry about, of course, but he was sensitive about her being around other guys. Guys like Tristan especially, and after their encounter at the ball, Dean would have felt a lot better never to have to hear his name again. That his now-girlfriend had kissed this young man he despised so much barely twenty-four hours after he had admitted his love for her would surely shatter what fragile trust she had gained back.

Rory heartily agreed with her mother, of course. Their relationship still had some work to be done before it could reach once again that level that it had been at previous to that whole 'I love you' incident. The last thing that Rory needed was to destroy what progress they had made with mention of something that had not been meant to happen, nor was it something that she had wanted. It had just happened, and neither party was to blame, but still she felt uncomfortable with the thought of lying to Dean. That the two young men could possibly meet up and that information about the kiss could come up anyway bothered her, and however much it might hurt Dean to hear about that kiss, it would hurt ten times worse coming from someone like Tristan.

Despite her best efforts at searching for Tristan before that first practice in Star's Hollow, she failed to find him anywhere, knowing that for some reason he was still avoiding her. Whenever she asked one of his friends where she might find him, they would pause a moment, as though about to reply, before they turned to see her and got a look at her face. Then any words that might have slipped from their mouths changed even mid-word sometimes, and they had no idea where he had disappeared to.

What was it that had so turned him against her, and had driven him from the enjoyable pastime of picking on her whenever he could? That he had somehow lost all interest in her had been a distinct possibility at first. Perhaps he had a new conquest, or something, she had thought. But not anymore. He didn't want to see her for some reason. He was going out of his way to avoid her, and she knew that there was a reason why.

With her failed efforts, Rory's worry about the whole thing almost doubled, fearful that Tristan might run into Dean through some awful twist of fate, and tell him everything. It would be just like him to do so, of course, and had she been entirely truthful with Dean like a respectful girlfriend should have been, she should by now have disclosed such a thing to him. It meant that Tristan would believe that she had nothing to hide, and would flaunt that mistake in front of the young man who it would hurt the most.

Dean. Her Dean.

But then, they were in her home town. She had home court advantage, and surely the cosmos would not align themselves so surely against her in one night. She could speak with Tristan before their second practice, and see if he could keep a secret. If not, she would have to confess to Dean when that came around. For now, she would believe in the luck of the Gilmore's.

So in the end, she arrived at Miss Patty's hall, smiling a moment as she remembered the night after the ball when she and Dean had hung out here a moment. Then she saw Paris step out of a sleek looking Mercedes, and the moment was gone.

That moment dropped even further when Madeline approached and informed Rory that, yes, Tristan was there, but he had just ducked over to the market to get a pack of cigarettes. Dean was working tonight, she realised, and the bottom dropped out of her stomach. Turning, she fled in the direction of the market, ignoring the calls of surprise from the girls.

------

Tristan entered the store, his gaze resting briefly on all the personnel working there, before a smile lifted his lips somewhat, and he made his way over to the tall young man with the dark hair.

"Excuse me, Stockboy," he began, and Dean turned in surprise and annoyance to face the blonde-haired young man standing slightly behind him. "Could you tell me where I can find the shortening?" Then he glanced down at the apron Dean was wearing and shot him a dashing, playboy smile. "Now that is a fine looking apron. I mean it. I mean... really sensational."

"What are you doing here?" Dean's reply was nothing polite.

"Well to be honest, there something I wanted to ask you," Tristan began, playing up the faux-honest seriousness of the question he was about to ask. Lifting two different brands of flour from the shelves, he held them up before Dean's face. "In your professional opinion, which one of these would make my cakes fluffier?"

Dean looked less than enthusiastic at the question, and watched him coldly, continuing to stack the shelves in front of him. "You drove all the way out here just to be a jerk. There aren't enough people who can't stand you in Hartford?" he asked honestly, brows rising to his forehead in question.

Tristan of course, had the perfect answer for that.

"Oh no! I'm here for Rory."

Dean's reaction was one of shocked anger, and he stopped his stocking of the shelves and turned fully to face Tristan. "What?" he asked angrily.

"Yeah. The play. Romeo and Juliet."

Dean just frowned. "What about it?"

Tristan shrugged, for all the world surprised that such a thing was possible. "I'm Romeo, and she's Juliet. Hey! Come on! She must've told you?" He paused a moment, pretending to study Dean's face with a small smile turning up the corner of his lips. "She did tell you, didn't she?"

Dean just frowned, and Tristan realised that she hadn't in fact told him anything. That she would keep his involvement a secret completely bewildered him. Why would she not want Dean knowing that they would be working on the play together? Just how much trouble had he caused the two that last year past? He knew that Dean hated him, knew that Rory didn't seem to, despite her words that last afternoon they had really spoken, but he also knew that he had no chance to get Rory... because of Dean. They had made that perfectly clear in the car park at Chilton.

"I think you'd better leave."

Dean's words were firm and demanding, and Tristan had never liked being told what to do. Carelessly, and in a completely obvious way, he held one of the bags of flour out and dropped it to the floor. The packet split and flour went everywhere, including all over Dean's shoes.

"Oops!" Tristan gasped in mock horror, looking with dismay at the mess, and then back up at Dean with an obviously fake expression of apology. "I am so sorry. I am such a klutz." And he pulled out his wallet from his back pocket. "Here. Let me." Pulling some money out of it, he dropped it, letting it float down to join the flour on the floor. "This should cover it."

Dean glared at him angrily, taking a step forwards. "You know what? I hope for Rory's sake that you've got an understudy."

Tristan tensed, preparing for a fight, but Rory ran up at that moment and pulled Dean slightly away, her hands on his chest. Tristan fell silent as she shot him a look that he could easily interpret. Annoyance, anger, and confusion.

"Dean. Hi!"

Dean looked down at Rory, and then back across at the now silent Tristan, who for some reason would not meet her eyes. Immediately, he got suspicious.

"Rory. What is he doing here?"

She didn't reply to him straight away; instead pushing him backwards towards the door of the store, her eyes holding his. "I need to talk to you."

Dean tried to pull away and step around her, back to Tristan. "I've got something to settle with this guy..."

Tristan would have been more than willing to fight if he had made it around his girlfriend, but Rory grabbed his arm and succeeded in pulling him to the door.

"Outside please," was the last thing that Tristan heard her say.

------

It took a while to convince Dean that nothing was going on, and that she had not chosen to work with Tristan. Eventually Dean surrendered, realising that she would have to work with Tristan anyway, no matter what he said, and he knew not to make it harder for her than it already was. He knew better than to make her choose between her work and her boyfriend, because he really cared about her, and cared how she did in school. It was just that she seemed to be constantly paired up with this guy, and he couldn't seem to get away from the mention of his name.

He finally surrendered; mostly because he knew that she couldn't stand the guy, so he shouldn't be taking this all so hard. They had to work together. It wasn't a choice, and the minute this assignment was over, she would never speak with him again. Or at least he hoped so, because who knew what assignment she would be getting next. He did insist on coming to the next practice however, which she hesitantly agreed to.

When the conversation was over, Rory told him that she would get Tristan out of the market while Dean walked around the block, before giving him a kiss and disappearing back into the building.

Dean just started walking, trying to cool off. Boy that guy rubbed him the wrong way.

------

"Excuse me, Tristan," a soft voice came out of nowhere, and Tristan turned in surprise to look down at the angelic face looking up at him. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Tristan honestly thought about saying no, just walking away from this girl who had driven him crazy since he had met her. However he was too much a creature of habit, and he turned back to his friends, deciding to trade once again on his cocky nature. It had protected him so far... mostly, but he felt confident it could keep him from reacting hurt by her comments from that afternoon when she and Dean had made up and made out publicly in the car park. She'd said that she hated him. Hated. A strong word, and for Rory, one probably not used lightly.

Dismissing all this from his mind, he murmured a casual, "I'll meet you guys later, okay?" at his friends, before turning back to Rory with a cocky, arrogant grin. So far, so good. "I'm all yours."

Rory, for her part, was confused. For so long he'd been treating her like the girl who'd ruined his life; avoiding her when he would have tortured her before with his endless attention. Now it seemed he was over whatever it was that had been bothering him. Back to his usual self. She wasn't sure whether to be glad that he was no longer upset with her, or irritated, because once again she was the easy target for a bit of harmless fun.

Realising this was not the time to be standing there in front of him, silent, as though lost for words, something that was only increasing the smile that twisted his lips, she spoke quickly. Blunt and to the point.

"I need to talk to you about something serious." Okay. Perhaps not straight to the point, but quickly leading up to it.

"Serious, huh?" he asked, his voice vaguely questioning, while his brows rose to his forehead as he pretended to ponder her statement. "I'm intrigued."

"Dean's coming to rehearsal tonight."

A look of shock arrived on Tristan's face, and he leaned in a bit to whisper conspiratorially. "Wow! Are you sure they can spare him? I mean, what if there's a run on baked beans?"

Rory's eyes narrowed at his behaviour, and he knew that he was getting to her. This made his smile widen. He had always enjoyed that effect, because she looked particularly attractive when she was angry; her blue eyes flashing in a way that would be forever imprinted on his memory.

"Can you shut up for five seconds, please?" and when he went silent, she sighed with what was probably relief, and he couldn't help but allow a small smile to lift the corner of his lips. "Thank you. Look. As I said, Dean is coming to rehearsal tonight, and I'd like to ask you to promise that you won't say anything to him about what happened."

Tristan tried to look puzzled, frowning in thought when he knew exactly what it was that she was referring to. It was hard to forget, the fact that he had kissed Rory Gilmore. It had been what he had wanted for a long time now. Since he had met her, in fact, and that moment had been so... impromptu. He had not been expecting it, and had not really been able to comprehend that it had happened until after it was over. And by then it was too late. She was running away. Crying. Very flattering.

"What happened?"

Rory was beginning to become flustered. "At the party."

"At the party?" he repeated, looking even more confused, and he was rewarded when Rory's eyes flashed angrily, her response snappy.

"Tristan! You and me, at Madeline's party?" and when he managed to keep up his confused look, she embellished. "You had just been kicked to the curb by Summer, and I found you sulking on a piano bench. I sat down, we talked, and then... we kissed."

He didn't want to pretend that he knew exactly what had happened; could actually remember that moment in great detail. So he covered the best way he could.

"That was you?" and he sounded honestly surprised.

That had done it, he realised, when Rory turned away, shaking her head in annoyance. "You know what? Forget it."

Realising that he didn't want her to go, despite the fact that he considered himself angry with her, he called out quietly. "Hey, Rory."

She turned back around, the pert twist to her lips making him quickly glance away, spotting his locker, and realising that he needed to get some stuff.

"There is no point talking to you," she was saying. "I knew that, yet I tried. Won't happen again."

When she attempted to turn and leave again, he pretended to grasp the concept of what it was she was trying to convey to him. "You don't want me to tell Dean that we kissed."

Rory's face was altered by a look of faux-shock. "By George, I think he's got it!"

Then he shrugged. "Okay. If that's what you want."

What? What was he doing? He was just giving up the one chance that he had of breaking up Rory and Dean, and he was doing it nicely for heaven's sake! What was wrong with him?

"It is."

And he shifted back into his arrogant personality. "Although he's going to find out anyway."

Rory looked stunned at the suggestion. "What?"

Tristan shrugged, leaning against his locker, smirking down at her. "Well come on! You know that when we kiss on stage, it's going to be pretty obvious that it's not the first time." When she looked confused, he continued. "I'm a good actor, but I can't hide that kind of passion."

She just frowned at that, her eyes holding his. "Look. Things are really good for me and Dean right now," she explained, and it was the last thing that he wanted to actually listen to, so he spun the combination to his locker, and began taking his books out while she continued speaking. "And I don't want anything to mess that up. Especially not something that meant nothing at all to me, and I wished had never happened in the first place."

Okay. That hurt, Tristan realised, when he felt like he'd just received a sucker-punch to the stomach. He couldn't help but allow a little jealous anger into his voice as he replied. "So things are going good for you two, huh?"

She just nodded, watching him carefully. It was the return of the Tristan she had met that first day back at Chilton. "Yeah. They are."

Tristan nodded, distracted, returning the books he'd just removed from his locker back to where they had been before.

"So what do you think? You just took those out," and she was referring to the books now stacked neatly in his locker.

"Well I changed my mind," and now his voice was snappy. Despite his resolve to appear unaffected by her presence and her words, those that she had spoken had hurt. He had thought that he was invincible. No one could hurt him, especially a girl. But Rory... She had the power to almost destroy him if she tried, and he resented her for taking that opportunity, albeit that it was unconsciously done.

"Are you all right?"

Tristan looked sceptical at her question. "Yeah. I think I'll recover from the great romance between you and the Beave."

Rory chose to ignore this further shot at Dean, and instead changed the subject.

"A lot of stuff's been going on with you lately, huh?"

Tristan was annoyed now. Why wouldn't she just go away and let him be miserable in private? "Meaning?"

"Just... You know. The car thing. The suspension thing. A lot of drama."

He just shrugged, closing his locker with no small amount of force, and holding her gaze, his eyes like chips of ice. "Well I get bored easily."

Rory watched him carefully. "Just doesn't seem like you."

He looked sceptical at that comment. "And you know me, how?"

"I know you don't get suspended for stupid pranks," she replied calmly, and he felt himself becoming angrier.

"I pulled stuff like that before I knew Duncan and Bowman, all right?" he asked snappily, hoping to drive her away with his irritability.

Rory remained brave in the face of his anger. "Well, if you did, you didn't get caught. You're getting caught a lot."

"Your point being?" He wanted to wrap this up.

"Maybe Duncan and Bowman aren't the best people to be hanging out with." His eyes widened at the presumption that she could tell him who he should and shouldn't be friends with. "They're not as smart as you Tristan. They don't have what you have going for you. They..."

But he'd finally had enough. "You know, I'm going to bail before we get to the whole hugging part," he shot back, his eyes flashing angrily before he turned away, moving off down the corridor. Then he turned his head slightly to look back at her. "And ask your boyfriend to remind me when it's coupon day, okay?"

Rory just stood silently and watched him go.


	3. Won't You Stay?

**Author's Note: **Yes, yes, yes... I know it's painful reading through the storyline of that episode, but I really do think that those parts I did use are actually necessary for the plotline of the story. There is some original story in there however... Much of the first chapter was my own... and I hope you guys enjoyed it!

But... True to the basic rules of writing one's own story, it takes it's new path somewhere in this chapter... and then it's all mine from then on in... and a little of Shakespeare's classic of course. So I hope you like, and thanks for bearing with me.

* * *

"Here's to my love," Tristan cried out, his voice filled with the tragic despair inherent in the scene as he leaned over Rory, his eyes watching the still face beneath his own. "Oh true apothecary, thy drugs are quick," and then he paused, turning his head to look back at Paris. "Line?"

"Thus with a kiss, I die," she snapped back, waving the script around like a flag in her annoyance. "How hard is that to remember?"

Tristan nodded slowly. "Thus with a kiss, I die. Right," and he glanced at Dean quickly, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. "And then I kiss her, right?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably where he stood and looked very much like he wanted to cross the room and start a fight.

"Yes," Paris shot back, her voice revealing just how close she was to losing her temper, her eyes flashing dangerously. "You say, 'Thus with a kiss, I die'. Then you kiss her and die." Tristan glanced at Dean, and the smirk twisted into a smile as Dean glowered angrily back at him. "Why are you smiling?" Paris demanded of him, her eyes narrowing angrily. "You think this is a joke? The performance is tomorrow!"

Tristan pulled back from the table upon which Rory half-lied, propped up with her elbows. "Wait… Tomorrow?" he asked, shock flickering throughout his voice. "I totally missed it the first forty-seven times you said it!"

Paris looked as though she was trying to strangle what was now left of the script in her hand. "I warned you! I'm not going to fail this because of you. I will replace you with Brad in a second!"

Brad looked as though he was about to be sick, and almost half-doubled up in his chair. "Oh, please, no!"

Rory lost what patience she had. Dean standing there watching this was not helping matters, she knew, especially when he was glaring at Tristan in such a way. She just wanted this over with, so she and Dean could hang out and spend some time together before the night was over. At the rate this scene was going, it wasn't going to be happening any time soon.

"Can we just get through the scene?"

"Please," Madeline agreed, rolling her eyes and glancing at her watch, as though reminding all there that she had somewhere else to be.

Paris nodded, glaring at Tristan. "Fine! But yell line once more and you're out," and she turned to Brad. "Start memorising."

Brad jumped, and snatched up his script, his fingers fumbling with the pages as he began to what looked like speed read through the displayed lines.

Tristan turned back to Rory, allowing his smirk to remain firmly in place when the last thing that he felt he needed to be doing was something like this. It would hurt too much, even more so than it might have because the young man that Rory kissed voluntarily stood close by, watching his every move. Although… He had to admit that it was amusing taking out his feelings of frustration on Dean. Still, just that knowledge that the minute this was over, she would run back to him was still slowly eating away at his composure. He somehow wished that he'd decided to choose Act One with Summer instead.

Suppressing a sigh, and maintaining his expression of self-assurance, Tristan knelt once again by the altar's side, quickly falling back into character.

"Oh true apothecary, thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss, I die," and he leant over to kiss her mouth, pausing just before he did so, and pulling away suddenly to face Paris again. He tried to ignore the sudden burst of relief on Dean's face.

"What?" Paris snapped, and Brad looked at Tristan fearfully, his eyes begging him not to make Paris mad enough to replace him. Tristan couldn't promise anything of course, still fighting with himself as to whether being replaced might be the easiest option in this rather remarkable situation. However, this doubt he showed no one but himself, outwardly maintaining his irrepressible arrogance.

Tristan shrugged at Paris' question. "Well," he began, as though reasoning this through. "It's just, with this being our last kiss and all, it makes me think about our first kiss," and his eyes found Rory's where she'd propped herself up on one elbow again. "You know; at the party."

Rory sat bolt upright, her face paling several shades, and only Tristan noticed the panicked flickering of her eyes in Dean's direction. "What?"

Paris, it seemed, was not having any of this. "Lie down!" she snapped at Rory. "You're dead!"

Louise shook her head from the corner, her eyes appearing less than amused. "We all are."

Tristan however, was not to be dissuaded; she was once again in his control, and he had the power to break her and Dean up right now. However, he also had the power to destroy this miniature production they had going; not to mention Rory's trust in him forever. So he continued with a quick shrug.

"You remember the kiss. In Act One at the Capulet's masked party?" and he saw Rory visibly relax, however her eyes, still fastened on him, showed that she was less than amused.

Paris didn't catch the significance of the expression on either face, and merely shook her head. "What about it?"

He shrugged. "Well… I was just trying to think of something that would make this kiss as special as that one."

Rory's voice held a warning that none other in the room understood, but that made Dean's eyes narrow angrily.

"Tristan."

"I thought she could cry," Tristan finished, his eyes holding Rory's for a long moment and confusing everyone with the quick communication passed between the two. Dean shifted his stance a little and glowered darkly.

"What?" Rory's voice sounded almost dangerous, but at the same time, a little panicked.

"She's dead," Paris explained simply, as though this should be terribly obvious. Then she turned sharply to Rory. "You're dead; lie down."

Tristan just shrugged. "Yeah, but that's the beauty of it. No one would expect her to cry."

Dean snorted softly; amused. "I would."

That short comment from the one guy that Tristan was unable to stand made something inside him snap. "You know, funny you should say that…"

But Rory seemed to realise what it was that he was going to do, and jumped from the altar. "I need to take five."

Paris nodded, her voice exasperated, and seeming on the verge of collapse. "You know what? Let's all take five. That way you can all cancel whatever plans you had tonight because we are staying here until we get this right." When Brad pulled out his cell phone and began dialling, Paris turned on him. "Who could you possibly be calling?"

Rory sighed, making her way over to Dean and slid her arms around his waist, hugging him briefly.

"He is unbelievable," Dean murmured to her, his dark eyes watching Tristan as he spoke to whoever was on the other end of his mobile conversation.

Rory just ignored this statement. "Dean. I really need you to leave."

He didn't like that, she knew, when he pushed her away, extracting himself from her hug and looking down at her, big brown eyes hurt. "What?"

So Rory tried to explain. "The play is tomorrow, and it's fifty percent of my grade, and you standing there staring at Tristan… It's like a challenge or something."

Dean's face was dark. "Well I don't like the way he's messing with you."

Rory shook her head. "I don't like it either, but we have to get through this scene, and we can't get through this scene with you standing there. So, Dean, please."

There was a long pause as Dean glanced briefly at Tristan as he hung up his phone and started pulling his arms into his jacket, shooting the couple surreptitious glances that neither could interpret.

"Fine," he agreed finally. "Call me later," and kissing her briefly on the lips, he turned and left her there.

Rory jumped almost out of her skin when a soft voice spoke directly into her ear.

"Now I noticed you didn't cry when you kissed him. I'm starting to feel a little insecure."

Tristan's face was so close to hers when she turned around that Rory had to take a quick breath and a couple of steps back before she could say anything in reply to that. When she had, of course, her anger came back tenfold.

"What is wrong with you?"

Tristan took a step back, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture. "Whoa! I think I liked you better comatose!"

Rory ignored him. "I thought you weren't going to say anything!"

Tristan looked surprised. "Did I say that?"

Rory just shook her head in disgust. "You make it impossible for anyone to be nice to you! No wonder you had to join our group. Anyone who's actually suffered through the experience of going out with you would absolutely know better!" she snapped without thinking, and Tristan, for one split second, looked hurt. Then he turned away.

"Gee! I really wish we could continue your analysis on how pathetic I am. Unfortunately, I have to meet some friends." And so saying, he turned from her and made his way out into the dark street.

Paris noticed him leaving, and jumped, seeming startled for a moment. "Where are you going?" she called after him, before turning to Rory. "Where is he going? We're not finished! Hey! I'm the director here! Tristan!"

Brad looked after the retreating figure fearfully, running to the door of the dance hall, and calling out in a blind panic at his back. "Tristan! Come back!"

Rory sighed, fighting the urge to do so, but knowing that if he didn't come back, they'd all fail for sure. Because of her.

"I'll get him," she sighed, resigned, Brad thanking her profusely from where he sat slumped against the wall, looking particularly ill. Steeling herself for what she knew would not be a pleasant conversation, she dashed after him.

She caught up to him as he reached his car, unlocking his low, sleek convertible with the small click of a button, and for a moment Rory was taken away by the utter convenience of that before she was brought back to just what was going on.

"Tristan!" she called out; and he turned around with a greatly put out attitude.

"What?" he snapped; his blue eyes like ice as they glanced her way. For a moment, Rory was stunned. He had never looked at her like that, even when she had hurt his feelings about something. Now he looked really angry, and she knew that it was because of her.

"Where are you going?"

He merely turned away again and moved to the door of his car, pulling it open with a much too vicious yank for the stylish convertible. "Away."

She pointed uselessly back from the direction she had come, her eyes holding his. "But what about the play?"

"What about it?" he asked; his voice sullen and waspish. Rory ignored it, her eyes narrowing angrily.

"We need to practice!"

"No," he corrected her impatiently. "_You_ need to practice. _I_ need to meet some friends," he clarified for her, his voice speaking slowly as though trying to communicate something to a child. He expected her to be angry perhaps, but she merely frowned, her voice exasperated.

"You _always_ do this!"

He returned the frown, his blue eyes losing his anger and surrendering to confusion and defensiveness. "Do what?"

She gestured around her as though indicating all around them. Tristan glanced around at the darkness surrounding them a moment, before looking back at Rory. It did nothing for his composure to realise how alone they were at the moment. It felt as though they were cut off from the rest of the world. "This," she exclaimed angrily. "Try your hardest to be the biggest jerk you can be!"

His confusion was lost, replaced once again by his anger; his defensiveness still present. "Oh just _shut up_!"

Rory stood in shock for a long moment, her brows pulled together in a frown, eyes clearly displaying her hurt at the sudden words and the meaning behind them. His eyes had returned to the chips of ice of previous, and he was looking at her with anger and what was almost loathing.

"Tristan…" she began hesitantly, trying to regain her composure and hide the hurt that she felt that he had spoken to her like that. Never had he treated her in such a manner. Never had he completely lost all semblance of his former, cocky, playful self with her. Sure, they had argued before. They'd snapped back and forth, and had bitter arguments on just about every subject one could imagine. However, he had never spoken to her like this; no guy had, and Rory found that it really hurt. "You have to come back."

But it seemed that he had lost all patience, and he shook his head, his eyes flashing angrily. "No! You know what Rory? I'm done!"

Rory was angry now, and her eyes narrowed as all hurt and confusion was lost. "With the play?" she asked snappily, but she was soon to be surprised.

"Yes!" he snapped back, before anger was replaced by sudden confusion. "What? No! Not with the play!"

Now Rory was frustrated and yelling at him. "What are you talking about?"

Tristan just gestured at the surrounding darkness, waving his hands as though including her too in the grand picture of everything. "This!" he yelled at her. "You! I'm just…" and he deflated, looking now like nothing more than a sad, lost little puppy, and Rory had a sudden desire to reach out and hug him that she hurriedly suppressed. "Done," he finished softly, shaking his head and looking away towards his car. So close, but it seemed that he was rooted in place, and he couldn't move. He sighed, glancing back to find Rory staring at him in confusion.

"You're done?" she repeated, as though trying to figure out what he meant by that. This of course brought his anger back tenfold.

"_See_?" he asked her, yelling, his voice echoing around the silent street, and Rory might have tried to make him talk more quietly if she thought that it would help. But something seemed to be really bothering him, and she knew that nothing she said could change how he was feeling. "What's the _point_?" he asked the sky, tilting his neck back and looking up at the stars a moment. Then his eyes moved back to hers. "You're so clueless!" and her eyes understandably narrowed at that. "I don't know why I bother _doing_ this to myself!"

"Doing _what_?" Rory screamed at him, her face screwed up in frustration, anger and a certain helplessness. He was accusing her of something, but she had no idea what it was and couldn't defend herself. It was probably one of the worst feelings she could imagine, not to mention the fact that he seemed really upset by whatever it was that she had done to him. That fact made her feel just that much worse.

He just deflated again, his anger seemingly gone, but for how long she didn't know. She seemed to bring out the worst in him, and from the very beginning this had confused her.

"Didn't you hear me?" he asked her softly, eyes finding hers. "I'm done. It doesn't matter anymore."

She spoke hesitantly. "Then… You'll come back?"

He looked confused a moment. "What?"

"To the play."

"No!"

"But…"

"I have to meet some friends," he told her again, and he glanced at his watch as if to imply that he was already running late. Turning, he moved to the open door of his car, as though about to slide in.

"What about Paris?"

He turned back once more with a frown. "What about her?"

"And Madeline?"

His frown deepened, and his eyes narrowed again. "What?"

"Louise, Brad, me… We're all going to suffer because you 'have to meet your friends'. Don't you feel even a little bad?"

"Should I?"

Rory tried to explain as best she could, but felt almost as if she were talking to a brick wall. "If you're not there, then Brad will have to step in," and her voice became almost pleading, her brows rising in a plaintive expression on her forehead.

"And?"

"And you know what he's like!"

He held up his hands in front of him, holding them palm out towards her as though to say he was over it. "Not my problem."

"Tristan," and now she was trying to reason with him. "Please. We can't do this without you."

Her words hit him forcefully. Just the plaintive way she said it; the real meaning behind her words. She believed what she was saying, he knew; knew it, because Rory couldn't even lie with her face, let alone her words. When she looked it, and said it, she meant it. There was a very long pause before he spoke again.

"I'm sure you could."

"Don't you care about your grades?" she asked, and Tristan's brows rose to his forehead. Okay. Different tack; different defence. He could play this. He just shrugged indifferently.

"Should I?"

"Oh I don't know," she shot back, her voice sarcastic. "Did you want to get into college?"

"What if I told you I didn't? Would you believe me?" he asked, and suddenly he was back into his playful mood, and the abrupt switch left Rory almost dizzy.

"No."

"Would you try?"

She shook her head. "Probably not?"

"Not even a little?"

"Nope. Because you're not stupid."

He smiled his cocky, arrogant, playboy smile. "You've said that before."

"And it's every bit as true now as it is then. You're not stupid, which is why you have to come back and do this thing with us. You're friends can wait. This can't! It's tomorrow night!"

"Why won't you even try to play along?"

"With what?"

"With me not going to college?"

"Oh that."

"Yes. That."

"What about it?"

"Why not?"

"Because you're not agreeing with me, so why should I agree with you?"

He frowned. "I'm not agreeing with what? That I'm not stupid? Oh no… I believe you."

"I'm sure you do," she shot back, unable to help the small smile that was twitching at her lips, but it disappeared a minute later as they got back to the real issue. "But I was talking about finishing this play."

He held up his hands in a defensive gesture again, all amusement gone from his eyes, and that familiar flash of pain erupting quickly and disappearing behind a mountain of resentment and annoyance. What was up with him?

"Look," he answered her, snappy once again. "As fun as it is driving Stockboy crazy," and her eyes narrowed at the nickname. "I think I'll pass. I'm not into the way that he's staring at me at the moment. It kinda creeps me out," he told her, his voice taking on an almost disgusted tone.

She ignored his shot at her boyfriend, and just shook her head, sighing lightly in vague disappointment. "And here I was, thinking that you loved being the centre of attention. Boy, I must have been wrong!"

"You know I do," he told her, shooting her a charming, playboy smile. Then he realised what he was doing, and he cursed himself. He had said he was done! His smile disappeared, and he shook his head. "But I'm not going back."

He turned back to his car.

"He's not there."

He turned back.

"What?"

"He's not there."

"Who's not there?"

"Dean."

"He's not?"

"No. Dean's gone."

"Gone?" he asked, his eyes holding hers carefully.

"That's right."

"I thought he was going for coffee or something."

She looked confused. "Why would he be going for coffee?"

The look he shot her then was nothing less than amused, his eyes asking her if she was seriously asking that question. He didn't need to say anything.

"Okay. But he wasn't going for coffee. He went home."

Tristan thought about this a moment, before frowning; confused.

"But the thankyou kiss…"

"Thankyou kiss?" and now it was Rory's turn to be confused.

"Yeah," he agreed with her statement with a nod. "The," and his voice took on a girlish pitch and tone. "_'Oh my gosh! Thankyou for running to get me a coffee like the good little puppy you are'_ kiss."

Her brows rose to her forehead in amusement at his words, hardly noticing that he had just, almost, insulted her boyfriend. Hearing him speak in that voice, and listening to what he had to say, drew her mind away for just a moment.

"Wow! You certainly read a lot into that one kiss, didn't you?"

He shrugged, pulling off a supremely arrogant and cocky grin. "Well… I just happen to be an expert."

"Better dust off your skills, Obi-Wan, because I think they need a little polishing!"

"Oh you think so?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"Well how'd you come to that conclusion?"

"You didn't know the difference between a goodbye kiss and a thankyou kiss. You're slipping."

He shrugged. "Fair enough. Point taken. Care to help me practice?" he shot back without thinking.

She just shook her head slowly, her eyes holding his. "So… Tristan," and he knew what she was going to say before she said it. "Do you think you could possibly come back?"

He paused a long time, debating. He had promised Duncan and Bowman that he would meet them tonight, and yet here in front of him stood one of the most beautiful women he had seen in his life, and she wanted him there. That and her boyfriend wouldn't be in the same room as them this time around. At least things would be somewhat more comfortable, and he could always hang out with Duncan and Bowman after the play tomorrow night.

"You're sure Dean's gone?" he asked, his eyes lifting to find hers.

She nodded decisively. "Definitely gone. Please Tristan?"

He hesitated only one moment longer, before nodding.

"Fine."


	4. All Just An Act

Rory's mind was a mess. It was the night of the play, and she couldn't have felt more nervous. Forget that it was fifty percent of her grade, and that her chances of getting into Harvard if she failed were significantly less. She was more concerned about the boyfriend who stood with her family in the audience, watching those around him with a sort of dangerous intensity.

She watched him discreetly from the corner of the corridor, and almost feared what he might say if she approached the group now. She knew how he felt about Tristan. He knew how she felt about Tristan. Neither liked him, and this kiss thing was throwing both lives into a state of nervous agitation. Both wanted this night over and behind them forever, so they could all get on with their normal lives as they had been.

Taking a deep breath, she slipped from the corridor and made her way to the group of those she knew standing amongst so many strangers.

"Hey," she greeted them with a bright smile. "You came."

"Of course I attended this auspicious occasion, oh Juliet, for thy most humble servant is obliged to drive her ladyship home!"

Rory just rolled her eyes in amusement at her mother's antics, and Dean chuckled softly. "Of course I came," he told her, his brown eyes holding hers in that adorable fashion of his. "I wouldn't miss your stage debut!"

She grinned back at him, glad that he seemed to be either hiding his lack of comfort in such a situation, or he really was finally coming to terms with the fact that she really had no choice. The decision had been made for her, and Tristan was there to stay.

"You look gorgeous, sweetie," Sookie crooned, brushing the full sleeve of Rory's gown, and admiring her from top to bottom. "A real Juliet."

Rory grinned at her, about to say something to that when Paris arrived at a full run, her face panicked and looking wildly about.

"Rory!" she cried out when she saw the girl, pouncing on her, eyes wild. "You haven't seen him yet, have you?"

Rory looked startled, as did the rest of those assembled when Paris laid her problems at the young Chiltonite's feet. "You're kidding? He's still not here?"

When Paris shook her head, Dean grimaced angrily. "I told you that creep was impossible to trust."

Rory just nodded, not deigning to respond to Dean's comment, and looked in vain around her to search for the missing actor. "He told me for sure that he was going to be here."

"When was that?" Paris snapped back, her eyes flashing dangerously, and Rory knew that if Tristan didn't show up in moments, he would be treading a thin line of life and death for the rest of his life at Chilton.

"Just yesterday," Rory insisted, her eyes holding those of the panicked and furious young woman in front of her. "He said, 'See you tomorrow' just before he left." She shrugged. "Perhaps he's just caught in traffic."

It was at that moment that Tristan came in, wearing a beaten up expression, his eyes barely lifting from the floor as he made his way to the assembled group.

"Where have you been?" Paris snapped at him, and his blue eyes lifted to hers. In them no one saw that arrogant, cocky side of the young man they all knew so well. In that gaze they saw only the worn down expression of someone who's had to seriously re-evaluate his life.

"With the police."

Almost everyone looked at him as though it was some ridiculous practical joke. All but Dean of course, who merely glowered at him as though he had never expected anything better. To his credit, Tristan didn't respond to this, but to Paris' next question.

"Are you going to jail?"

He shook his head slowly, frowning.

"Shipped out of the country?"

He shook his head again. "No."

"Leaving the school?"

Once again, another shake of his head.

"Well get into makeup then! What are you waiting for? We're on next!"

And beckoning to Rory to grab Tristan and come, she darted off through the hall. Rory shot her friends an apologetic glance, before taking Tristan by the arm and dragging him with her to the dressing area they'd been given.

Lorelai glanced at Sookie a long moment, both exchanging meaningful glances.

"With the police, he said," Lorelai was the one who finally spoke, and Sookie, Jackson and Dean all nodded slowly. Then she let out a long, low sigh. "Well I for one am glad that my little girl's found such a good boy to date," she crooned at Dean, pinching one of his cheeks in a motherly fashion. "An adorable sweetheart who'd never be found dead in a police station, unless he decided to become one," she explained to those around her, some of whom were merely walking past.

Dean managed to look both highly embarrassed and excessively pleased with himself, and Sookie chuckled to herself. "You just might give him a huge ego and he'll turn out just like that blonde boy. Best be careful."

Dean snorted in disgust. "Hardly. I'd have to have no manners and a complete lack of all decency to become that kid."

Lorelai's brows shot up sharply to her forehead. "Wow! Feeling a little bitter about something I don't know about, Dean? Or are you normally so judgemental about people you've just met."

Dean looked over at Lorelai, his own brows rising onto his head in amazement. "You didn't know that was Tristan?" he asked his girlfriend's mother, and Lorelai's stunned expression told Dean quite clearly that this was the first time she had met or seen him. "He's just… He always seems to be after Rory, and he won't back down. He believes for some reason that he's worthy of her, when I know that he's not, and―"

"Dean… Calm down. Look. Rory loves you, okay? She's told you that already almost a hundred times since that little break up thing you guys had going there for a while, okay?" she spoke softly, trying to calm the young man down. Dean looked like he wanted to hit something at the moment. "And you know Rory's not someone who'll say something for the sake of it. If she said she loves you, she loves you. Please don't doubt her like that. She'd never do anything to hurt you."

Dean nodded slowly, seemingly appeased by Lorelai's soft words. Then he sighed. "You're right of course. But I just… I don't like him."

------

Rory was feeling excessively nervous as she lay down on the altar that would be her position for most of the act, closing her eyes and trying to calm herself down. She couldn't understand for the life of her what her problem was. She was a natural for public speaking, and acting was merely a step beyond that. It should have been a breeze, and yet she found herself shivering almost uncontrollably until they raised the curtains. Then, using all the self-control in her, she stilled her shudders, and waited for her cue.

"Oh my love! My wife!" Tristan's voice echoed through the still room, his eyes closed, weeping fake tears for his beloved's still figure that lay on he altar beside which he stood. "Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, hath had no power yet upon thy beauty; thou art not conquered; beauty's ensign yet is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, and death's pale flag is not advanced there."

Rory couldn't help but lose herself in the language of those beautiful words, uttered from a mouth she would not want at any other time to hear them from. However Tristan spoke so well, so eloquently that she didn't find it at all hard to get lost in the language; to really believe herself to be Juliet, and Tristan to be her husband Romeo.

"Ah, dear Juliet, why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe that unsubstantial death is amorous; and that the lean abhorred monster keeps thee here in dark to be his paramour? For fear of that I still stay with thee, and never from this palace of dim night depart again."

It was all so perfect; so eloquently worded that the audience and Rory too, felt Tristan's despair. His beloved wife lay dead. His world had ended, and all he had left was the sweet, welcome relief of his own death.

"Here, here will I remain with worms that are thy chambermaids;" he continued. "Oh, here will I set up my everlasting rest; and shake the yoke of inauspicious stars from this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! And, lips, oh you the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss a dateless bargain to engrossing death! Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on the dashing rocks they sea-sick weary bark! Here's to my love!" And Rory forced herself not to open her eyes and watch Tristan as he acted the taking of that fatal concoction, the tragedy full on his face. She could remember it so well from that last practice. He had done it all perfectly, and even Paris had found very little to criticise him on.

"Oh true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick," and Rory steeled herself for what would come next, for they had not practiced the kiss, preferring to wait until the night, and she held her breath as his lips descended to hers, startled when the soft touch evoked a sudden startled jump of her heart. "Thus with a kiss I die," Tristan murmured quietly, before sliding to the floor, and lying still.

Rory wanted to jump up and run. She wanted to run as far and as fast as she could from what she had felt in that moment. It had been so different from that last time she had kissed him. So innocent, this had evoked a far greater response within herself, and for a moment, she found herself wondering why. Surely she couldn't like him?

No. That was impossible. She was in love with Dean. So what had that been?

And then she knew. Relief. It was over. Over forever and she would never have to kiss those lips again. She felt a sweet comfort seep through her at that, and found herself relaxing again, just as she heard her cue from Brad.

"The lady stirs."

She rose from her coma-like state, looking around her as though blearily wondering where she was, before her eyes settled on Brad, dressed as Friar Lawrence.

"Oh comfortable friar!" she greeted him in a pleasantly happy voice. "Where is my lord? I do remember well where I should be, and there I am: Where is my Romeo?"

A loud clattering and the sound of footsteps came from somewhere offstage, and both characters on stage turned to look in the same direction.

"I hear some noise," Brad spoke his line quickly, and he turned back to Rory as Juliet, beckoning her to follow. "Lady come from that nest of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep: A greater power than we can contradict hath thwarted our intents: Come, come away: Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead. Come, I'll dispose of thee among a sisterhood of holy nuns: Stay not to question, for the watch is coming. Come, go, good Juliet," and the noise came once again from the sidelines. "I dare no longer stay."

Rory looked down at Tristan's still face, willing herself to believe that he was truly her husband, Romeo, and that she was the beautiful Juliet. Willing herself to believe that her husband was truly dead. Willing the tears to come; and they did.

"Go!" she cried at the friar, her face a mask of agony and tears. "Get thee hence, for I will not away."

Brad hastened off-stage, and she could see him beyond the safety of the curtain suddenly relax and collapse to the ground with an excessive relief.

She turned back to Tristan, climbing from her altar, and crouching by his side, stroking his hair with a tenderness she would never show him in real life. "What's here?" she asked aloud, taking the cup he held from his hands. "A cup, closed in my true love's hand?" Her eyes sought those of the audience, speaking directly to them as she seemed to come to the conclusion they already had known. "Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end."

She looked back to Tristan, acting an anger in the sweeping gesture of her hand, and the bitter twist of her lips. "O churl! Drink all, and leave no friendly drop to help me after?" And suddenly her heart dropped as she remembered her next line. She had completely forgotten it. "I will kiss thy lips. Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to make me die with a restorative."

Leaning down, she brushed her lips against Tristan's, meaning for it to be only a short touch. Instead, her heart leapt in her chest once again, the feeling scaring her more than anything she could ever have imagined. However despite this, she allowed her lips to linger for a long moment on his own, tasting his as she never had before, as though truly trying to suck poison from the mouth of her dead husband.

------

Lorelai watched from the audience as her daughter performed a play she had once despised for its depression and despair, but now couldn't help but love with the memory of her Rory playing the part so well.

Romeo was dead, lying peacefully by her altar where he had breathed his last breath, and she watched as Rory crouched by his side, taking his cup and speaking directly to the audience. Then she grimaced bitterly, her expression almost matching Dean's as she spoke that next line.

"I will kiss thy lips. Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to make me die with a restorative."

Then she watched as her daughter leaned down, placing a kiss on the still lips of the blonde boy lying slumped on the floor. Perhaps she was being paranoid, because that kiss lingered a lot longer than she would have thought necessary, and she found herself frowning with a deep concern at her daughter.

It was hard not to notice the chemistry between the two. Hard not to see the fact that Rory wanted to kiss him; that she actually enjoyed the way she could touch her lips to his that way. But what perhaps scared Lorelai the most was the way she could kiss those lips in front of Dean; the young man with whom she was in love.

------

Finally, she pulled away, and she looked down at his still face, surprised and at the same time relieved that no sign of shock at the excessive kiss showed on his face. She allowed her surprise however to show on her face as she spoke her next line to the still figure.

"Thy lips are warm!"

"Lead, boy; Which way?"

Brad's voice from the sidelines sounded harsh to her ears as he spoke, and she realised that she was far too into this play, far too involved in something that wasn't even real; that meant nothing to the boy who lay so perfectly still beside her. Somehow she would have to explain this whole thing later.

She turned back to Tristan's still form, searching as though frantic around his jacket. "Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief," and she snatched the fake dagger from the sheath at Tristan's side, holding it up so the audience could see it clearly. "Oh happy dagger!" she cried into the silence that filled the hall. "This is thy sheath;" and she stabbed the dagger between her ribs and arm, turned sideways to the audience in order to hide the obviously fake death. "There rest, and let me die," she finished breathlessly, before collapsing face down, thankfully as they had rehearsed, across Tristan's prone form.

They had decided to cut most of the Prince's lines in the sake of keeping the crowd interested. As it was, Paris stood as the Prince, Brad, after a quick costume change, and Louise as the Capulets, and Madeline, with fantastic makeup, as the bereaved, and apparently alone, Montague. Paris of course, was the one who spoke.

"See what a scourge is laid upon your hate, that heaven finds means to kill your joys with love! And I, for winking at your discords too, have lost a brace of kinsmen: All are punished."

Brad stepped forward, offering his hand to Madeline. "Oh brother Montague, give me thy hand: This is my daughter's jointure, for no more can I demand."

Madeline accepted the hand and shook it once. "But I can give thee more: For I will raise her statue in pure gold; that while Verona by that name is known, there shall no figure at such rate be set as that of true and faithful Juliet."

Brad was nodding, his voice shaking, but sounding fit for a man who had just lost a beloved daughter. "As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie; poor sacrifices of our enmity!"

Paris stood, walking slowly towards centre stage, her eyes searching those of the audience as she boldly and with a deep sadness and meaning spoke the famous words that ended the play.

"A glooming peace this morning with it brings; the sun for sorrow will not show his head: Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; some shall be pardoned and some punished: For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

There was a long silence as Paris bowed her head, and then a small smattering of applause soon grew to a roar as the crowd appreciated the job that the students had done for the school, and for themselves.

Then the curtains were closed, and everyone scrambled to their feet. Rory found herself holding the hand of Tristan on one side, and Paris on the other, two of those people she would have said before were two of her least favourite in her life. Now she wasn't so sure.

The curtains opened again, and they all took a bow to further applause before the curtains fell closed again, cutting off the safety of the audience's observation.


	5. A Secret Revealed

Rory saw Tristan turn to her; saw his mouth open as he began to form the words that she knew would throw into chaos her entire world; everything. Her relationship with Dean would forever be called into question, her standing with Paris, as an almost friend, if that was what she could be called. She could imagine her mother's reaction to such a development and―

"Rory that was amazing!"

It was Paris' voice that broke the silence, her brown eyes flashing excitedly. Rory turned to look at her, for the moment refusing to look back into the face of Tristan DuGrey, a man who had once been her nemesis here at school, and now… she wasn't so sure.

"I'm glad you liked it," she replied, for the moment not completely understanding where Paris was going with this line of conversation, but just glad that she'd cut off the words that were about to leave Tristan's lips.

"Liked it?" Paris queried, her eyes dancing with a vigour that once again threw Rory for a loop. What on earth was up with Paris? She was never one to throw around praise lightly, and yet she seemed so thrilled. "I loved it! We wiped the floor with the rest of our class. With the rest of the school! We were perfect!" Then she turned to Rory with an almost delirious smile. "And that kiss!" she exclaimed, shaking her head in amazement, while Rory tried to ignore the sudden drumming of her heart as she thought about the same thing. "We didn't practice, and I was so afraid that you wouldn't manage to get just what we were going for!" Then she rolled her eyes, her gaze moving back to the tall blonde standing somewhere behind Rory. "Unlike Tristan, you've managed to portray that the two of you were married and in love," and Tristan just shot a resigned look at her, before her eyes narrowed dangerously. "And what about you?" she shot at the young man. "You could have been her cousin that was so pathetic. I thought you pride yourself on your make out rep, Tristan."

One brow rose to the young man's forehead as he stepped around Rory, his blue eyes meeting hers as he walked by. "Oh… and have Stockboy attack me in front of the entire attendance? I'll pass."

Rory's eyes narrowed. "He wouldn't have attacked you!"

"Not what I've learnt from previous experience."

"_You_ confronted _him_."

"And he was oh so noble and didn't fight back? Does that make him a wimp? Because it certainly doesn't make him your knight in shining armour."

"It makes him neither. He's sensible!"

"And boring!"

"He didn't want to make a scene!"

"Even to defend your honour?"

"There was nothing to defend! You were being a jerk to _him_, not to me!"

"Wow! Time out!"

Both combatants turned to see Louise with her hands palm out in a gesture of defence. Rory felt herself slowly able to calm down, realising that she was making a scene.

"I have to go."

"Yeah," Tristan agreed snappily, obviously still not over whatever it was that was bothering him. Was it still that thing with the police? What was that? She had meant to ask him about it. Now seemed not the best time to get anything out of him. "So do I," and he stormed wordlessly from the stage, his eyes dark and angry.

------

Rory met up with her party of fans, as they all appeared to be when she reappeared from the dressing room after changing from her costume and stage makeup. She was greeted by a grinning quartet, and she couldn't help but beam right back at them all. Apparently they too had believed the kiss to be nothing more than the act they were trying to portray, and Rory let them believe just that. She did notice a curious look shot at her by her mother, but a grin later, accompanied by her taking Dean's arm and hugging it in greeting, she saw her mother relax, and Rory knew she'd escaped the situation. No one suspected anything; Dean knew that the whole thing was finished. Tristan meant nothing more to her than he always had. Everyone knew that to be the truth. Everyone except Rory.

That she had felt something that moment his lips had touched hers so briefly – and when she had kissed him later – she could not deny. It scared her, but it was there nevertheless, and she knew that if she was to have any semblance of a normal life again, she'd have to figure the whole thing out. Being with Dean when she was so confused about her feelings for another boy was a huge weight on her shoulders that she didn't want to have to bear.

It was when she was going to check her phone for the time when she realised it was missing, and she froze suddenly, searching her bag almost frantically. Dean's arm slipped from her shoulders as he kept walking, before he realised she was no longer coming, and he turned to face her. She realised seconds later what had happened to it of course. She'd taken it out to check if Dean had called earlier, and left it on that desk she'd been sitting at, listening to Paris' lecture about just how perfect they all had to be.

"Rory?"

"I… I forgot my phone. I left it in the classroom. I'll just…"

"You want me to come with you?"

Rory just smiled and shook her head. "No… It's okay. I'll be back in just a second."

------

Her phone secure in her bag, Rory was briskly walking back through the halls when a hand shot out from one of the dark, empty classrooms and dragged her inside. The door was slammed closed behind her, and she only got out a startled yell before lips met hers in an intense kiss that completely blew her mind away. The slow, sensual dance invaded her senses, and Rory couldn't think; could only react to the utter perfection of a kiss that swept all thoughts of her waiting boyfriend from her mind.

Kissing back, the fingers of one hand curled up through short locks, the other exploring the sculptured cheekbones and jaw line of this mysterious… _What the hell was she doing?_

Pulling sharply away, she looked in horror up at the silhouetted features of the guy she had somehow known it would be, staring into eyes she knew at other times would be a clear blue, while now they merely reflected the surrounding darkness.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" she screamed at him, her hands clenched into angry fists by her side.

She merely saw a small smile lift his lips in the faint light, his eyes flashing at her as he moved past her to the door. "I knew it," was all he said, before he opened the door and left, disappearing into the hallway beyond, leaving Rory standing alone in the classroom, hands still clenched into fists by her side, tears of confusion and anger shining in her eyes.

------

A loud groan echoed from what looked like a mass of sheets on Rory's bed, and Lorelai moved quickly to her side to poke her gently awake.

"Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead," she spoke into the semi-dark, her own voice revealing just how fatigued the young mother was. It was most unlike either young woman to be up this early on a Saturday morning, and when it wasn't planned, neither were really morning people.

"Mum…" Rory whined, rolling over again, and burying her head under her pillow. "It's too early!"

Lorelai just shook her head at her daughter. "Come on. I have to be awake; big disaster at the inn, and―"

"That means I have to be too? You're mean."

Her mother just shook her head, her blue eyes studying the bundle of blankets and pillows that at the moment constituted her daughter. "No. There's a very handsome young man at the door for you."

Rory made a noise that sounded something between groaning and sobbing, and shook her head. "Tell Dean to come back when I'm awake," she told her mother grouchily, her head finally emerging from beneath the pillow.

"It's not Dean. It's Tristan."

Rory just stared at her mother in surprise for a long moment, before she buried her head under her pillow once again and shook it fiercely. "Tell that jerk he can go home. I don't want to talk to him."

"He drove all the way from Hartford to see you, and―"

"He didn't have an invitation?" she asked quickly, cutting her mother off. "Thanks. I'm aware of that."

"He's your friend."

A snort of disgust issued from under the pillow, the same pillow that Lorelai consequently grabbed and tugged off her daughter. Turning to look up at her mother with a look of annoyed irritation, Rory shook her head. "He's not my friend."

"But the other night―"

"He was in the play. I had to talk to him."

Lorelai's brows rose to her forehead. "I'm sure there was something more there."

"Well you were wrong."

"I'm rarely wrong."

"With Tristan… anyone who gives him a chance is wrong."

Lorelai just watched her quietly, frowning at her daughter a moment, before nodding slowly. Without saying a word, she handed her daughter back the pillow she had taken, and watched as she curled back up under the covers and made an attempt at getting back to sleep.

Making her way back to the door, grabbing her bag on the way, she opened it to the blonde young man waiting on the porch.

"It's not happening, Tristan," she explained, and watched as his face fell, not so noticeable to one who was any less gifted at reading the expressions of others, but obvious to the young mother. "She's very upset with you at the moment. May I ask what happened?" and the look she fixed the young man with made Tristan feel suddenly like he was under the scrutiny of a very protective parent. That'd be a change. His parents barely noticed when he wasn't at home.

Tristan just shrugged, attempting to appear disinterested in the whole thing. "Just a misunderstanding I wanted to clarify."

Lorelai looked on with an understanding smile. "In other words you really screwed up and came looking for forgiveness?" she asked. "Come on, Tristan. You live in Hartford and drove all the way to Star's Hollow in order to clarify a misunderstanding? You don't think I'm that stupid, do you?"

Tristan just shrugged. "With all due respect, ma'am, I've never met you before today. That excuse would have flown with my parents."

Lorelai just watched him a moment, and was about to say something further when she glanced up at sign of movement on their front lawn. Her eyes looked directly into the dark brown ones of her young daughter's boyfriend. "This is not going to be pretty," she muttered to herself, and when Tristan heard her words, he frowned in confusion. He then saw Lorelai glance briefly over his shoulder, and turned his gaze also to that of the young man who had captured the heart of the young woman he'd come to see. That dark gaze, anger burning deep in his eyes, was fixed solely on him, and he couldn't help but smirk at the taller guy. This of course only made Dean's eyes darken further, and Lorelai jumped in before anyone could start a fight.

"Rory's inside Dean. Tristan was just leaving."

Tristan's gaze moved back to the older woman, almost angry at her interference, but a single look from Lorelai silenced anything he might have said. Dean just walked sullenly past, his gaze finding that of Tristan as he passed him.

"Stay the hell away from her," he muttered as he walked past, and Lorelai wanted to sigh when Tristan naturally shot an easy comment right back at him.

"Here… Sure. At school, I can't promise anything. My appeal is undeniable. What am I to do if Rory can't stay away?"

Dean's frown darkened, but he didn't reply when he saw the dangerous expression in Lorelai's eyes. Instead, he merely disappeared into the house, his eyes dark, his expression bitter. When he'd closed the door behind him, Lorelai fixed Tristan with a firm glare.

"Now. I don't know how things work in Hartford, but in or around my house, random strangers who arrive without an invitation, do not attempt to start fights with my daughter's boyfriend." Her blue gaze pinned him where he stood, and he found he couldn't escape from that stony gaze until she chose to release him. Powerful and extremely intimidating, Tristan was glad his own mother couldn't pull off the same expression. "This is our home, Tristan. You may be the king at Chilton, and perhaps even in Hartford, where all the ladies exist to do your bidding," and when he opened his mouth to argue her words, his eyes narrowing sharply, she held up a hand and silenced him with another look. "But here… This place is Rory's and if something happened and she doesn't want you here, then I don't either. This is Rory's house, Rory's porch, and Rory's boyfriend. You start a fight with him; you start a fight with the rest of this family."

Then she indicated the sleek convertible he'd parked in the driveway, and he turned unconsciously to look at it as she did so. "So I would appreciate it if you get back in that car and drive back to your own house, and wait to see Rory at school on Monday morning. If she'll talk to you then, good luck to you. Right now, she doesn't want you around."

Tristan's blue eyes watched her reproachfully, and she could tell that her words had hurt. Still, they were for the best. The last thing that she needed was this young man starting a fight with Dean here in town. That would certainly cause a stir, and Rory would be upset about it for days or weeks afterwards. Tristan certainly did have an incredible ability to rub her the wrong way. Still, despite this, whatever it was that had happened that night of the play had upset Rory in a huge way and there were very few things that could have done that. So what had happened?

She would never get her answer from him, she realised, as he turned with a dark glare, and hurried back to the beautiful car in the driveway, unlocking it with a click of a button. So convenient, she found herself thinking, not knowing that her own daughter's thoughts had taken just that turn when he had last been here in town. Such a beautiful car…

Soon he was gone, and seconds later Lorelai saw Babette appear around the corner of her house, her eyes sparkling with a keen interest. "Hey Doll! Who was that gorgeous guy?" she asked just as Dean reappeared from the house looking rather put out.

"This one?" Lorelai asked, indicating Dean, and hoping that Babette would take the hint and say no more about Tristan; at least not in front of Dean. "Why this would be the wonderful Dean Forester. Rory's beloved boyfriend."

"Not at the moment," he interrupted, and Lorelai glanced his way. "Sleep is more important to her," he commented with a wry grin, and Lorelai couldn't help but laugh softly.

"That's certainly Rory unless I miss my guess; at least on a Saturday morning. You should know that by now Dean, or don't you know Rory at all."

Dean just chuckled and shrugged. "Thought I'd take chance and see if today was any different."

Lorelai just laughed softly at his naivety, and was about to say something when Babette interrupted again.

"Heya Dean," she greeted the young man, before turning her attention back to Lorelai. "But I meant that young blonde babe you were talking to before," and she didn't notice Dean's gaze darken at the mention of the blonde.

"Tristan?" Lorelai enquired. "Just a classmate of Rory's from school."

"Just? That boy's a total hunk! If I was forty years younger… Mmm!" she spoke, appreciating the young man's exceptional good looks. Lorelai had to admit that the young man was attractive, and she was sure that her young daughter had also noticed this fact. She was also glad that, for the moment at least, Rory seemed to be easily rubbed the wrong way by the young man. Whether this had anything to do with a subconscious attraction to Tristan, she didn't know. She was just glad nothing had happened to draw Rory's attention to that possible truth.

"I'll remember to introduce you the next time he's in town," Lorelai shot back, and Babette smiled at the suggestion.

"I'll look forward to it, Doll. Say hi to Rory when she gets up!"

------

Dean was walking back through the square when he noticed the guy in the red jumper slumped on one of the seats, looking nothing if not disheartened, and when said guy glanced up at him, he made his way over to glare down at him.

"If you're waiting for her to come through this way, you're stiff out of luck."

"Her who?" was the sullen answer.

"Don't turn this into one of your stupid mind games. You know who I'm talking about."

"Your girlfriend?" Tristan asked, one brow rising to his forehead. "What about her?"

"I know you're waiting to see her."

"And how on earth would you know that?"

"You were at her house this morning, weren't you?"

"I wasn't there to see her."

Dean just shot him a look that told Tristan quite plainly that he thought little of that. "Well I know that's a lie."

Tristan rose to his feet and took a threatening step forwards, trying to put a stop to the way that Dean was attempting to tower over him. "And how, pray tell, do you know that? Is there some psychic convention you attend when you're on holidays from stacking shelves?"

"Why else would you be there?"

"She left something at the play last night, and I was returning it to her. I gave it to her mother."

"You didn't even ask to see her?"

"On a Saturday morning? Are we talking about the same Rory Gilmore?" he asked, cocking his head to the side in a mockingly thoughtful manner. "Don't you find it odd that I know your girlfriend's sleeping habits more than yourself?"

The innuendo in those words made Dean bristle angrily, and Tristan's smirk when he saw it did not help matters.

"I want you to get the hell out of here right now."

"It's a free country."

"In Stars Hollow, for you… Not so much."

"And what're you going to do about it?"

"Get the hell out of here."

"You first, Stockboy."

"Rory doesn't want to see you."

A smirk lifted Tristan's lips at that, an amused flash entering his eyes as he studied the angry guy across from him.

"Can you be so sure of that?"

"Lorelai would have let you in the house if she did."

Tristan laughed. "Only to be kicked out minutes later by Rory like you were? I thought I'd pass, but I guess you like that kind of humiliation, right?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're the boyfriend the girls can walk all over. She's going to get over you very quickly."

"Rory and I are in love."

"So I hear," and again that cocky smirk.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that not even twenty four hours after you told her you loved her, she and I kissed at that party. That knowledge doesn't bother you?" and when Dean frowned, Tristan knew that he'd hit a nerve.

"Excuse me?" he asked dangerously, staring at the blonde in uncomprehending anger.

Looking horrified, Tristan slapped a hand to his forehead. "Oh that's right… She didn't want me to tell you. It's a big secret. Apologise for me, will you?"


	6. Apologies And Their Consequences

**Author's Note:** Hey guys! Thanks for all your reviews, comments and encouragement! I love hearing from you guys, and I'm glad you're enjoying this story so far, and that I'm at least succeeding somewhat at keeping you guys entertained.

* * *

"Is he gone?' Rory asked when she saw Dean in Dosie's later that day. When the young man shrugged silently and continued stocking the shelves, not even turning to face her, Rory thought very little of it, knowing that Tristan's presence had always bothered him. Seeing him here in his home town would have been doubly worse, she imagined. Moving behind him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her chin gently in the middle of his back. It was then that he sighed.

"Did you kiss him, Rory?" he asked, not even turning to face her, but Rory could feel the stillness of him from her gentle hold. For a moment she froze as she considered releasing him, her hold loosening for a moment before she rethought that and it tightened again. She didn't know at first whether this was because she didn't want to let him go, or because she didn't want to face him.

"Rory?" he queried again when she said nothing, turning in her arms to look down at her. When her blue eyes refused to look into his, he forced her chin up with one hand, his dark eyes finally meeting hers. "Did you kiss him?"

Rory sighed, nodding slowly and hating that pained expression that entered her boyfriend's eyes at her affirmative answer. A dark frown crept across his lips and into his eyes, but at least his hand remained cradling her face. Not to mention he didn't pull out of her embrace. So far so good, Rory thought to herself.

There was a long pause then as he just studied her remarkably blue eyes for a long moment, as though pondering how he might reply to that comment. Then he uttered one word; a word that made whatever relief she had so far managed to attain disappear in one sudden breath. "When?"

Rory turned her face from his then, pulling her chin from his grip and cursing Tristan for his almost constant interference in her personal life. What was his problem anyway? Why did he have such an issue with Dean? Why was he always trying to hard to destroy the relationship that she and Dean had worked so hard to build? "Dean…" she began, but he cut her off moments later.

"It was that that party, wasn't it?" he demanded, his eyes almost fierce. "Just after I admitted for the first time that I was in love with you. You couldn't say it back…" he spoke the last as though something was just dawning on him, his eyes hurt as they stared back into hers.

"We were broken up, Dean," she explained. "I was upset, and Tristan was just _there_! It meant nothing."

"You were telling Tristan about what happened? You discussed our relationship with him?" he asked, his voice rising a little and drawing a couple of bewildered looks from the customers in the small market store. "Why would you do that, Rory? You know I don't like him…" he began, but seemed to think that this wasn't enough of an excuse for his anger. "It's none of his _business_!"

Rory sighed again, shaking her head in frustration at the fact that Dean was obviously looking for a fight. There was nothing she could do if he was already set on being angry with her, and so the only thing to do now was defend both her actions and herself.

"We were _broken up_, Dean. We weren't together anymore! You made that quite clear. I was just upset and so was he," she added, as though this made everything suddenly okay. She knew it wouldn't of course, but she was grasping at straws as it was. Hiding something like this from Dean had been a mistake, she knew, but she also knew that it wouldn't have mattered when she told him about what she had done; he would still have reacted in the same way. "He'd just broken up with his girlfriend, I'd just broken up with you… It was completely a rebound thing!"

Dean just watched her silently for a moment, his dark eyes flashing in a way that told Rory quite clearly that he didn't believe a word she said. "Tell that to him."

"What?"

"Tell him in meant nothing, because he seems to think otherwise."

"Tristan _knows_ it meant nothing," she explained, her voice growing louder in her frustration, and she noticed a few of the customers hurry quickly out of the store. No one wanted to be there when Stars Hollow's favourite couple fought.

"Have you told him that?"

"_Yes_! Yes I have!"

"Well then I don't think he's got the message."

"Dean… It meant nothing."

He sighed, shaking his head and stepping away from her, pushing himself out of her embrace, as though her closeness disgusted him. Rory felt tears sting her eyes at his action, and attempted not to allow any of it to show. She knew she'd failed of course, when Dean's eyes filled with a little concern, before this was dismissed quickly enough by his anger once again.

"I don't believe you," he spoke quietly, his eyes refusing to meet hers.

"Well that's your prerogative. I know I'm telling the truth," she told him nastily, finally getting sick of his accusations. Whatever he thought, that kiss with Tristan – that one on the piano bench at Madeline's party – had meant nothing at all to her. It had simply just happened, and she didn't know quite how it had. At least not at the time. Now, things didn't seem that simple anymore. She knew quite well that there was something more there; that he actually, somehow, meant something to her. Had that been the case at that party? Or was that just as she said, and had meant nothing?

"Rory… You kissed the guy! That _never_ means nothing," he explained, his dark eyes refusing to back down, and she held his gaze fiercely for a moment, before she realised that several more customers had left the sudden awkwardness of the store.

"Think what you like," she snapped, turning from him suddenly. "But I'm out before you lose your job. We'll talk about this when you've decided you're not going to be completely irrational." Turning back for a moment, she fixed him with a steely glare, and Dean was almost shocked by the anger he saw there. He had never seen Rory like this before. "Perhaps when you've got it into your head that you trust your girlfriend, we can talk and have a decent conversation. If you realise you don't, just don't bother," she added, before shooting him one last glance with her brilliantly blue eyes, and disappearing out the door.

Dean felt somehow that something had changed irrevocably; felt an incredible sense of loss, and if he hadn't been working, he might have chased Rory out of the store and across the street. Whatever had happened with her and Tristan, he knew it could be forgiven. He knew this because he knew, of a surety, that his life without Rory would forever be incomplete.

------

Rory was not sure what to expect from Dean in regards to whether he would pay her a visit that day, or the next. She wasn't sure whether she wanted him to, in all honesty. That he didn't trust her around Tristan was obvious. Sure, she had not told him about the kiss, but to her, it had meant nothing, and when he reacted like he did, how could he really blame her for keeping it from him.

An apology would be nice of course, but at the same time, also torturous, considering that kiss she and Tristan had shared in that dark classroom on the night of the play. Whether she should tell her boyfriend – maybe soon to be ex-boyfriend, depending on how he reacted to her words yesterday – about that kiss was something that was torturing her honest mind. Sure, she knew that Dean's reaction would not be pretty, but also at the same time, if she didn't tell him, and he heard it again from Tristan, she could bid whatever hope there was for a reconciliation of their relationship farewell forever.

She knew that it had been a blow for Dean, simply to hear those words from such a despised enemy as Tristan was. That Tristan had been able to shock and surprise him with the news when Rory should have told him months ago had been a humiliation that Rory understood Dean would find hard to move past; at least not straight away, anyway.

The fact that she expected him to avoid her at all costs, of course, made Rory all the more flustered when he turned up on her front porch on Sunday morning. She had not, in all reality, expected a visit or a talk this soon, and she was in no way prepared with anything that she might have wanted to say. Upon opening the door, she merely stared at him in uncomprehending silence.

"Hey Rory," he greeted, as though perhaps nothing had passed between them previously, a greeting that brought Rory's mind careening back to the present situation, and her eyes narrowed dangerously at her boyfriend.

"Dean," she answered coldly, refusing to show any emotion on her face, her blue eyes studying him like chips of ice, and Dean almost winced at the expression.

He would know why she was upset of course. Her final remark the day before had left it quite clear that she believed him not capable of trusting her; something which he had hoped to come and resolve right now.

"I'm sorry, Rory," he spoke honestly, his sad eyes holding hers; a faint, apologetic smile twisting his lips. "I really do trust you… I just don't trust him."

Rory just watched him in silence a moment, refusing to speak a word, her blue eyes merely studying his dark ones carefully, and so, thinking she wished him to continue, Dean did.

"I get that you were upset," he elaborated on his earlier statement. "And I get how Tristan could have taken advantage of that situation…" he began, but he was cut off moments later by Rory's quick, almost snappy tone.

"You're missing the point, Dean. I did kiss him. He didn't take advantage of me. We were both in such a depressed state, and we both just happened upon one another, all alone in the piano room, and we kissed. No one's to blame. This isn't Tristan's fault. It isn't my fault. It just happened."

Already Dean's eyes were narrowing again, and Rory wanted to inwardly sigh at herself. She could have accepted his apology, left the blame on Tristan, and things would have been fine. Yet for some reason she didn't like blaming Tristan for what had happened. It had been as much her fault as it had been his. She was positive that he would not have even tried anything had she not also been in such a mood. And she had kissed him back, if only for a moment. Much like that encounter in the classroom after the play.

"You seem to take a keen interest in Tristan, Rory," he pointed out, his voice almost waspish, and she merely stared at him in surprise for a moment. So he thought that she liked him, and was defending him because she still felt something for him?

"No!" she exclaimed, her eyes now narrowing again as she let her anger to the fore. "I _don't_ take an interest in him, Dean. I just don't like placing blame where it's not due. We're both at fault in this, so blame me as well. Don't place this all on Tristan's head just because you like me and not him. That's not fair!"

"I thought you wanted me to trust you, Rory! You're not really doing anything to warrant that! Why didn't you tell me the truth? Why didn't you tell me what happened _when_ it happened?" he asked, and she heard the faint sounds of hurt in his voice.

"Because I knew how you would react, and it meant _nothing_! I didn't want to have to deal with this whole thing!"

"Rory!" he complained, his voice rising quickly until she was sure the whole of Stars Hollow would be able to hear him. "For me to be able to trust you, it has to go both ways! You have to trust me too!"

"Fine!" Rory screamed back at him, screwing her face up angrily as tears sparkled in her bright blue eyes, replying before she could think through what she was saying. "You want honesty? You want the truth? Fine. Tristan kissed me. Friday night at the play. He dragged me into a room when I was coming back from getting my phone, and kissed me!"

Dean recoiled from that as if stung. "He did what?"

"He dragged me into―" she began again, her fury still intense, not allowing her for the moment to think through what she had just said, and in the impact it would have on their relationship.

But Dean held his hand to cut her off. "I know, I know! I heard you! I just… He kissed you? What… I mean… What did you do?"

Suddenly, seeming to realise just what she had said, Rory's anger was gone in a heartbeat, and a feeling of dread settled in place in her stomach. She just watched him silently a moment. Then, about to reply, she found that apparently she didn't need to, because Dean obviously saw her answer in her eyes.

"You kissed him back." It wasn't a question.

Rory nodded, biting her lip at the expression now reflected in her boyfriend's eyes. "Only for a moment," she insisted, stepping towards him and reaching out to place a gentle hand on his arm. "And it didn't mean―"

"Anything! I know!" he yelled back at her, pulling away from her so her hand fell helplessly to her side. "You've told me that before! God, Rory! How _could_ you?"

Now Rory was crying, tears falling silently down her cheeks, her blue eyes misted as she desperately held those dark eyes she had loved for so long. "It just happened, Dean!" she pleaded with him. "It was just so sudden that I just reacted."

"Damn it, Rory! You just don't get it! When your first instinct is to kiss random guys you encounter in dark classrooms when you're actually heading _back_ to your boyfriend… What does that tell me, Rory? If our positions were reversed, how would _you_ be looking at this situation?" he demanded, and she just shrugged helplessly, her eyes falling from his to stare helplessly at the floor.

"I don't _know_…" she sobbed, reaching up to wipe the tears from her eyes, even though she was sure that both knew that she was lying.

Dean sighed angrily, looking away from her slender figure, her shoulders shaking with her silent sobs. "Neither do I, Rory! I just… I don't know what to _do_ anymore. I don't know what to think… I _don't_ trust you."

She looked up into his face, her eyes almost desperate as they found his own. "Dean. Please…"

"I think we should break up," he told her quietly, his voice no more than a whisper.

"You don't mean―"

"Yes, Rory, I do," he told her firmly, his dark eyes moving back to hers. "At least for now. I don't trust you anymore. I just… can't, and until I can… I'm not sure… I… I don't want to see you."

------

It was Monday morning when she stepped off the bus at Chilton, her bright blue eyes focussed on the large building in which she would have her first class, and she didn't deign to notice him. Tristan had to admit that he wasn't really surprised. What he had done was pretty much inexcusable. At least in her estimation, he guessed. If she had been any other girl, any of this other ex-girlfriends, or otherwise, he would have thought that a quick encounter in the janitor's closet would have solved any misunderstandings. But Rory was different.

Something about her – perhaps it was her complete and utter innocence – had well and truly captured his attention, and from the first, he found himself utterly ravaged at the sight of her everyday. _Especially_ when he knew that despite his wanting her more than anything else in the whole world, she would never want him.

He had thought that maybe he had been mistaken that night of the play. Shakespeare's most famous tragedy had, he thought, brought her true feelings to the surface as she had kissed his still lips. Damn it all, he could still feel that slow kiss she had placed on his mouth that night. He could still feel that soft tenderness that he had thought never to experience again and he had to admit that he had hoped that the kiss was for him; hoped against every hope that perhaps, somehow, he had managed to steal her attention away from her Stockboy boyfriend.

He shook the thoughts from his mind. It had been a play, nothing but a performance on her part, and yet every single moment he thought of that kiss made his body ache in a way that he knew was unhealthy. Unhealthy, of course, because he had completely lost control over himself, pulling her into that classroom like that.

Still. Once again it had felt, for a moment at least, that she returned his feelings for her; feelings he had long struggled against. Not so, he'd realised moments later, as she had pulled sharply from his embrace, her lips tearing from his with all the pain as if she had literally torn his skin. Her furious stance and the flash of her blue eyes had reawakened that smallest of hopes, but her refusal to see him the next morning had made everything crystal clear. She didn't care about him, didn't hold in reserve any feelings for him should she and Dean split. She liked Dean; it seemed she would always like Dean. All she could hold for him at their best was a shaky friendship, and now he had lost even that.

Turning away, he looked back to his group of friends who laughed and joked together as though nothing was wrong with the world. For them, there probably wasn't. They had all used to joke around, saying how great their lives really were. All from wealthy families, all popular with the young woman in the school… life had it made for them, and until he had met Rory, Tristan had been one of the greatest believers of this fact. Since he had met that gorgeous, blue eyed goddess however, he couldn't help but realise just how superficial and pointless his whole life really was.

Glancing briefly back over his shoulder at the one girl who had, somehow, managed to capture his attention and refused to return the favour; refusing also to relinquish the attention he bestowed upon her, he sighed. For some reason, forgetting Rory Gilmore was just not likely to happen.

------

Rory sat quietly by herself in the Chilton School library, her bright eyes studying the lines of the book in front of her, drinking in everything that it told her, cataloguing it all away in her memory for another day when she might need to recall such information. She blocked everything out; everything that had happened in the past few days, the activities and voices of those around her, and so it took him a while before the young man's voice ended up penetrating her thoughts.

"Rory!"

Rory jumped significantly, her eyes turning to those blue eyes that she knew, and at this moment, hated with a passion.

"Tristan," she greeted, her voice flat and emotionless, her eyes turning cold. "What do _you_ want?" she asked, making it perfectly clear from her tone of voice that she neither wanted to know, nor even cared what he might want to say.

"I… Sorry, I guess."

"Sorry for what?" she snapped, her eyes moving from his and back to her book, refusing anymore to acknowledge his life and presence there with her. "What could you _possibly_ have done to warrant an apology?" she asked, sarcasm filling her voice.

Tristan just hesitated, his blue eyes studying her still face, noticing that her eyes had stilled on the page, and that she was no longer reading her book. With the relief of the knowledge that she was actually listening to him, he began.

"I know what I did was stupid. I know I shouldn't have done it, and I'm sorry."

"Sorry for _what_?" she asked, her blue eyes finally rising to his, and those blue chips of ice made him take a step back in shock. "Pulling me into that classroom? Kissing me when I have a boyfriend? Breaking a promise? What? What exactly are you sorry about, Tristan?" she snapped.

His eyes fell from hers, and he shrugged. "All of it, I guess."

She turned her face from his always, breathing deeply as though trying to calm herself. This of course, seemed to fail when she sighed angrily, and flipped her book shut with a sharp snap. "Too late, Tristan. You're too late," she told him, rising to her feet, and moving past him. "If you're looking for forgiveness, go talk to a priest, cause you're not getting it from me."

------

Rory leaned back against the cold wall of the deserted classroom, her face lifted to the roof as she tried to blink back the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. How had everything changed so quickly for her? How had her life, which up until that weekend past had been so blissfully perfect, ended up as a shattered mess? She had broken up with her boyfriend, or more correctly Dean had broken up with her, and ever since, Stars Hollow had not been that same sanctuary that it had once been.

Sighing deeply when her tears finally ceased threatening her, she looked back down, reaching into her bag, and pulling out her phone. Quickly dialling a number she knew very well, she lifted the cell phone to her ear, and waited.

"Gilmore's residence."

"Uh… hi. Is Emily Gilmore there?"

"Of course, Ma'am, may I ask who's calling?"

"It's her granddaughter Rory."

"Just a moment Rory."

It was only a few seconds later that her grandmother picked up the phone, her voice concerned as she asked Rory what the matter was.

"I… I'm not feeling well, Grandma, and was wondering if I could possibly come there. I don't think I can make it back home…"

"Of course, Rory dear. I'll send our driver for you. He shouldn't be more than about five minutes. I'll speak to your headmaster to let him know you're ill, and to inform your teachers. I'll see you in a moment, Rory."

Rory nodded silently, before adding a short "Thanks, Grandma," her voice soft and sounding more ill than she probably was. Then after saying goodbye, she hung up her phone and leant back against the wall of the classroom, blinking the tears that once again threatened her eyes. It was a very sad day when, for comfort, she requested sanctuary at her grandmother's. Yet the knowledge that she would soon be free of this school for the day sent a sudden burst of relief through her that she knew had everything to do with the avoidance of a young man who, more than anyone she had ever known, had every ability to alter her mood in only seconds.

"Rory?"

Speak of the devil.

"What do _you_ want?" she snapped, and he frowned once again, before seriously pondering her question. "Because I thought I made it clear that I never want to speak to you again."

"Uh… No. Actually you didn't say anything of the sort."

She paused, looking up at him for a moment, noticing the concern in his blue eyes before dismissing that as unimportant. "Well I'm saying it now."

"Rory―"

"Didn't you hear me?"

"What? You're talking?"

"Huh?"

"Well you said you were never speaking to me again?"

"Yeah, I did! And you wouldn't shut up!"

"Well I figured that since you weren't talking to me anymore, you could just sit and listen while I explain," he told her with a nonchalant shrug. This of course, only angered her further.

"Well you figured wrong," she stated plainly, her eyes holding his for a moment, before looking away. "Now leave me alone."

"It's a free world, and this school is hardly your personal turf."

"Fine!" she snapped, rising to her feet, and turning to walk out the door. When he stepped in front of her to block her path, she stopped dead, her eyes narrowing further, the bright blue of those eyes fastened furiously on him. "Get out of my way."

"What are you going to do if I don't?" he asked, one brow sliding in amusement to his forehead.

His smug cockiness disappeared seconds later when she grabbed the lapels of his jacket, pulling him forcefully towards her, those soft lips he had often fantasised about meeting his in an intense kiss.

On her part, Rory wasn't really sure what her head was doing, or where this whole plan of action had come from, but his lips moving so fiercely against hers managed to wipe all thoughts from her mind.

When the kiss deepened, she felt his tongue snaking between her lips, moving to join hers in an almost frenzied dance in the warm cavern of her mouth. Suddenly she felt herself moving, found her back slammed roughly up against the wall of the classroom – she let out a sharp gasp – and Tristan's hands became a little exploratory, sliding ever upwards from her waist, thumbs gently exploring her sides and parts of her stomach, then her ribcage…

It was then that she pushed him roughly away, his complete and utter surprise causing him to stagger back a few steps, before his eyes met hers with confusion and apology. "God, Rory… I'm sorry!" He wasn't quite sure what he was apologising for now, she knew, his eyes searching hers to see just what it was that could have been meant by those last few seconds.

Despite the almost frenzied beating her of heart, despite the fact that said heart now resided almost in her throat at the thought of what had just transpired, she instead just shot him a nasty smirk, her eyes glinting with disgust and anger. "Now you know how it feels, Mr DuGrey. Like I said before. I never want to talk to you again. Leave me the _hell_ alone!"

And without another word, she stormed past him through the now unbarred door, leaving Tristan standing alone; frustrated, angry and confused.


	7. Revelations

**Author's Note: **Hi again, guys! Thanks for all your awesome reviews, praise and encouragement! I adore you all for all the great, and totally flattering things you've said about my story... Thanks for sticking with me!

In other news, I'm just letting you know that I'm in the process of wrapping up my holiday (yes... I've been on holiday, hence the almost constant posting of new chapters), and then I'll be back at home and work and won't have as much time to write.

Hate to admit it, but the chapters may be more few and far between in future. I'll try get them to you as quickly as possible though... I _promise_ you won't have to wait a month.

Thanks again, guys, and I hope you enjoy!

And no... Just to reassure you guys, this is not the end...

* * *

Rory rested her head back against the comfortable seat in the Porsche her grandmother had sent for her, breathing slowly, trying to calm her racing heart and ignore the feelings that she knew should have been obvious to her by now. That she cared for Tristan; a great deal _more_ than she should. 

But no. She didn't care for him; wouldn't, in fact, because she knew that falling for someone was all a matter of choice. Someone like Tristan couldn't possibly make her happy, she knew, and she, with her innocence – and distinct lack of anything resembling a relationship of the sort that Tristan was used to – would have a _very_ hard time making him happy. But then what did that matter, because she didn't like him; would _never_ like Tristan DuGrey. Right now, she had to think of a way to get back with Dean… To help him understand that it was him that she wanted – needed – in her life, and that Tristan would never be able to compare.

Even though he really did.

What? No! She wasn't supposed to be thinking this! What was wrong with her? She really _must_ be sick if she was contemplating her feelings for Tristan in such a way, _not_ that they existed!

"Are you all right, Miss? You look very ill…"

Rory lifted her head to glance back up at her driver, nodding slowly before resting it back once again on the seat. Now that she really thought about it, she was feeling rather ill. Whenever she moved, something would move in her stomach, making her queasy, and if she wasn't careful she was going to vomit…

The car went over a bump and she moved her arms to cross over her stomach with a low moan. "Are we almost there?" she asked the driver, her voice suddenly croaky and harsh, and the young driver looked in the rear view mirror again with concern.

"Almost there, Miss Gilmore. Just a minute more…"

Rory wasn't sure that she really could wait a minute, but nodded nonetheless. It turned out of course, that he hadn't been lying, and about fifty seconds later, they'd pulled up at the front door of her grandparents house in Hartford, the familiar grey stone almost a comfort to Rory's now foggy head.

When the car pulled to a stop, she tried to move to open the door, but found that even that small movement made her stomach lurch in a way that made her feel like she was going to vomit any second, so instead she just waited.

Seconds later she heard the crunching sound of footsteps on the gravel outside the car; hurried footsteps as they made the way to her door, and it was wrenched open, the fresh air flooding through the open door making her feel a little better. Then strong arms reached through the door for her and lifted her up. She had a vague awareness of her grandmother's voice giving orders, and the fact that she was being carried upstairs, before everything became dark and she lost consciousness.

------

Tristan noticed almost immediately the absence of the young woman who had come to torture his mind almost constantly throughout the day. It was hard not to notice it after that insane kiss they had shared what seemed only minutes before. Now, in their calculus class, a class that Rory wouldn't have even considered skipping before, she was nowhere to be seen. It was unlike her to skip a class, and yet Tristan knew better than anyone that Rory wasn't exactly acting herself today.

What had happened in that empty classroom was so unlike her that it had taken him completely by surprise. His thoughts had been wiped clean; mind erased to the point where he could only just respond, which of course, had only resulted in him somehow being rejected and blamed once more. He could tell from what she had said that she had used the kiss as a way to get through the door, her comment telling him also quite clearly that she hadn't as yet forgiven him for the incident in the classroom after the play either.

"_Now you know how it feels_"… Those words had been reverberating through his mind over and over as he had attempted to puzzle through just what they had meant. What had she been getting at? After all, the situations were hardly the same. He had kissed her out of a desperate desire to know for sure what it was that she felt for him; to sort everything out. What he had found, of course, had not been to his liking, but he couldn't say that he had been taken by surprise. He had always known that Rory and Stockboy had a pretty close relationship. They were 'in love' as Rory liked to put it, and it seemed from all appearances that she had been telling the truth.

The kiss she had initiated in the classroom earlier that afternoon had been more than a surprise, mostly because of the fact that both knew that had he known about it, Dean would have been less than impressed. Tristan was smart enough to realise when he had spilled Rory's secret, that even the thought of Rory kissing him had Dean in a fury, and it wasn't hard to see that he would broach the subject when next he saw Rory to obtain the truth.

That was another thing. He had seen that disbelief in Dean's eyes when he had revealed the secret that Rory had practically begged him to keep. Dean had not believed him at first, or at least hadn't _wanted_ to believe him. Yet Tristan had also seen that deep-seated sense of doubt that Dean had felt also. It was obvious that the young man was scared of losing his girlfriend, and if she often did things like that insane kiss from earlier that afternoon, Tristan couldn't really blame him.

Still… It was somewhat odd that Rory had done what she had. It wasn't really an 'in character' sort of thing to do for her at all. Maybe if they'd swapped personalities for a day, something of that sort might have been normal and acceptable. Maybe if she had been acting as him…

Yet that still didn't get him past the fact that she had kissed him, something Dean would never have condoned, something that could only mean…

They'd broken up.

For a moment Tristan just froze at the realisation of the one thing that he'd been hoping for… something he'd been dreaming of for what seemed like _years_. Yet now that it had happened, Rory was perhaps angrier at him than she had ever been before in either of their lives.

Still… Her broken up with Dean was a step in the right direction, he realised, upon leaving that day. All he had to do was get her to understand just how sorry he was – and he really was sorry that things had gone awry between them; just not that he had kissed her. Still that shouldn't come as a surprise to her, because he was almost positive that he had revealed how he had felt to her on numerous occasions. Although Rory was sometimes annoyingly naïve.

He couldn't believe that after all this time she still seemed to think that he was far from interested in her. It had been a long time that Rory had been all that he thought about, and yet, despite how many hints he gave her, despite the many times that he had come close to almost shouting the truth at her when she missed yet another of his blatant hints, she still hadn't figured out that he actually liked her. That she, Rory Gilmore, had managed to check-mate the king of Chilton.

------

It was when he arrived home that he noticed something was going on. His father was straightening the bow tie that adorned his crisp white shirt, and the dark navy suit he'd chosen to go with it. His mother checking lipstick and eyeliner in the tall mirror that stood in the foyer of their large manor house. He noticed too that both sets of eyes moved straight to him when he arrived through the door; a sure sign that he was going with them.

"Where to now, Father?" he asked, and his father's dark eyes moved to find him, a small frown tugging at the corners of his lips. "Another charity ball to show off your extensive generosity? How about another dinner with an influential family to close a business deal?"

His father, much used to the nature of their conversations, merely ignored the general content of the comment, and answered only the question buried deep in the midst of Tristan's accusations. "We're going for dinner at the Gilmore's," he stated calmly, and although Tristan's stomach lurched at the name, he realised that of course his parents were speaking of the elder Gilmore's and not Rory and her mother. The idea of his parents even deigning to attend Rory's for dinner was laughable. His parents, snobs that they were, never did anything that wasn't to their benefit.

"So the latter then?" he asked, as he moved past them up the stairs towards his bedroom. His mother's soft voice lilting up the stairs intercepted him before he could reach that sanctuary. "Get your suit and tie on, dear. You were invited to come along also."

"Lucky me," he shot back bitterly, before disappearing into his room.

------

It was almost an hour later that Tristan, in the dreaded suit and tie, stood at the front door of Richard and Emily Gilmore's grand home, attempting to the very best of his ability, to look like he actually wanted to be there. It was only after a few moments that a maid answered the door and beckoned them inside to a small, somewhat comfortable – but otherwise cold – sitting room, where Emily was waiting for them.

"Welcome, Laurence, Sonia," Emily greeted them, her eyes then moving to his. "Tristan," she greeted him pleasantly with a smile. "And how are you?"

He offered her a charming smile, and nodded. "Very well, thanks, Mrs Gilmore."

Emily almost beamed at him, turning briefly when Richard entered the room with a glass of what looked like scotch. "Laurence, Sonia," he greeted his parents, and once again, he turned to survey their son. "Tristan. Nice to see you again."

"And you, Sir," he offered, with a slight inclination of his head and a brief welcoming smile. "Thank you for including me tonight."

Richard looked surprised for a moment, before laughing softly and gesturing at his wife. "I'm afraid you'll have to thank Emily for that honour, young man. It was she who extended the offer."

Tristan nodded with a thankyou smile at Emily, before remembering to curse her later in the privacy of his room. So it was her fault he was here. He didn't really understand why. It wasn't as though he usually got invited to these sorts of things. Then again, with the Gilmore's, dinner was not so often about business as it was about dinner, but eventually his father and Mr Gilmore would disappear into the latter's study, and that would be the end of them until the evening. Then he would be left with his mother to keep Emily company. _Good_ fun, he thought bitterly with an internal sigh.

"You're friends with my granddaughter, are you not?"

The question slowly breached his mind, and Tristan had to hurriedly shake his thoughts from his head in order to be in any semblance of attentiveness. What had he missed of the conversation? Obviously they were talking about Rory…

"Occasionally," he offered seriously, and Mrs Gilmore laughed at his response, a gesture he acknowledged with a smile of his own. She obviously seemed to think that his response was a joke.

"And how is Rory?" his mother asked, and Emily's grin sobered.

"She's asleep at the moment, although she may be down later for dinner. I think she's feeling much better then she was this afternoon."

Tristan felt a hole open up in the pit of his stomach. Now of course, he knew why he had been invited along this evening. Just on the off chance that Rory came down for dinner, he was meant to be her company. He couldn't imagine how that might go down, considering her current view on him. He knew that if something did tip the scales, and a fight did occur, his parents would not be likely to blame any of it on Rory. He felt an intense feeling of dread as the conversation continued.

"That's good to hear," Sonia offered with a bright smile, her bright blue eyes sparkling happily. "I'm glad she's feeling better."

So she had been sick that afternoon. That certainly made much more sense then her simply skipping a class because she was angry with him, Tristan thought to himself, once again allowing his thoughts to drift from the current conversation, and envelope himself in his own problems. Now that was something he was sure Miss Rory 'butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth' Gilmore would call selfish; and perhaps it was, he thought to himself, noticing with amusement the bitter thoughts of his mind. Perhaps she was right. That seemed to be Rory's talent in life.

"I'll send one of the maids," he heard Mrs Gilmore's voice invade his thoughts once again, and he turned his mind back to the conversation. "After all… It's important to keep yourself hydrated when you're feeling ill," she continued, and when Sonia nodded her almost solemn agreement to such a statement, Tristan jumped in.

"Allow me, Mrs Gilmore," he offered politely.

Emily looked surprised at the offer for a moment, before she smiled almost fondly at him. "Of course. Of course you want to see how your friend is," she elaborated, and Tristan just nodded acceptance of this excuse. In reality, it wasn't anything of the sort that compelled him to go to Rory. He had to make sure that she knew that he was here. If she did, he was almost positive she wouldn't come down for dinner, and any awkwardness between them could be kept from the adults. The last thing he needed right now was another fight with his parents. "Ask her if she's coming down to dinner, would you, Tristan?"

Tristan simply nodded, before politely excusing himself and moving to the kitchen. After asking the maids for a glass of water and directions to the bedroom that Rory was inhabiting at that present moment, Tristan made his way up the stairs, wondering what sort of reaction he might receive from her. Would her sickness make her easier to talk to and less likely to fight? He snorted at the very idea that Rory would be easy to talk to. _That_ wasn't likely.

Knocking lightly on the door, he entered a second later, not waiting for an answer, closing the door almost silently behind him. The first thing he saw was that chocolate hair fanned on the soft peach of the pillowcase, lightly tanned lids covering those blue eyes that had managed to invade his thoughts and dreams. Rory was lying on the bed on top of the covers; the way her skirt twisted giving him quite a nice view of her long, slender legs.

Moving to place the glass of water on the small beside table, he stood beside her bed a moment, just watching her, before seating himself on the very edge of the soft mattress. The movement of the mattress under his weight caused her eyelids to flutter, and finally to open, before her eyes, blinking blearily, looked up at him with instant dislike.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"I've come to see how you're doing," he offered graciously with a bright smile.

"Like hell, you have," she shot back, her voice still laced with sleep, but otherwise losing none of her sharp focus and intense dislike of him. He had been right in that regard, it seemed. "What are you _really_ here for, DuGrey?" she asked him snappily, and he merely grinned, refusing to be angered by her tone.

"I was invited, thankyou very much."

"What?"

"My parents and myself were invited for dinner. You have a problem with that?"

"I'd say no, but I'd be lying," she shot back easily with a small sniff of dislike, before squinting for a moment, moving to sit up. "But that still doesn't explain why the hell you're _here_," and she pointed at the bed. "And not down _there_," and she pointed towards the door.

"Would you believe that I was concerned?"

"No."

"You _are_ smart, aren't you?" he asked, as though surprised, and her eyes narrowed. Instead of attempting to annoy her even further, he surrendered his purpose. "I came with a glass of water. Apparently those on their deathbed require constant hydration."

"I'm _hardly_ on my deathbed."

"So stop acting it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You tell your grandmother you're sick so you don't have to see me for the rest of the day. And I thought you were honest!" he exclaimed with dismay.

"You know, I really was sick, _Tristan_," and she spat out his name. "You do realise that the whole world doesn't revolve around you?"

"Really?" he asked, as though this fact shocked and surprised him more than a little. "It doesn't?"

Where at one time she might have smiled, Rory now only fixed him with a disgusted expression and shook her head slowly. "You know. You're impossible to get along with."

"I'm impossible? Look who's talking, Mary."

Her blue eyes sparkled angrily for a moment, before she appeared to be attempting to calm herself down. "How am _I_ impossible?"

He shrugged. "Your whole personality is impossible, Mary. You make it completely impractical for those who you think yourself better than to be anywhere _close _to nice to you."

"What? I don't―"

"Yes, Mary, you do."

She just stared at him, frowning for a long moment, before she answered very quietly, "Well I don't mean to."

"I imagine that's the case, but it doesn't change the facts."

Her eyes narrowed again, obviously her anger wasn't yet ready to disappear. "Well with people like you, I'm rather glad I don't make it easy. I'm sure I could do better than you as a friend."

Ouch. That hurt, he admitted to himself, although he refused to allow that to show. "And I care about being your friend?"

"You seem to. Otherwise why the hell are you always so busy apologising?"

Tristan pretended to think about that for a moment, noticing that the pause and the expression on his face was infuriating the young woman beside him. "Something to do?" he suggested with a bit of a shrug, noticing that her eyes narrowed further. "In reality, Mary. I apologise because I think I've upset you. Generally the way you've been treating me recently gives me that impression."

She shrugged. "Well you deserve it, don't you?" she snapped back. "You can't be trusted."

"Ah… now that one I really _was_ sorry for."

"Like I said. Too late."

"Why? Cause you and Stockboy broke it off… I can't say I'm sorry to hear it."

Her eyes narrowed again. "Once again. _Impossible_ to like you."

"Many people would say otherwise, Mary."

"Yeah… Those brainless girls to whom looks only are important. I'm so happy for you," she shot back sarcastically, and for a moment, a frown tugged at the corner of his lips, before he replaced it with his bright smile again. She couldn't have even imagined how much that comment had hurt. It far was too close to the truth.

"Well at least I _have_ friends at school. Who've you got, Mary?"

She almost recoiled at that, he noticed, her eyes flashing at him furiously, her anger growing. "I'd prefer to have no friends at all than be friends with any of you."

"And now you're generalising. I didn't think that you, Mary, would do the other students such a dishonour."

"Like _you_ care what I think about other people. You exist simply to torment me."

"Really now?" he asked, his blue eyes lighting up with interest. "Have I succeeded?" he asked almost eagerly, and her frown deepened, as did that anger in her eyes.

"Just leave me the hell alone."

"Not you house; not your rules."

"Well it's my grandma's house, and that closer to mine than yours. So get the hell out and leave me alone."

"Well I'm here on your grandmother's orders, aren't I? So I have permission to be here."

"You're so _infuriating_!" she yelled at him, and he was glad that heavy door would mask most of that from those downstairs.

"I try my hardest," he offered with a bright smile, at which point she growled almost angrily.

"Why the _hell_ won't you just leave me alone? Why do you always _insist_ on sticking your nose into my life and relationships? Why do you even _care_?" she asked him, her voice rising once again, her fists clenched shut, and her pretty face screwed up angrily.

"Because I _like_ you Rory! That's why!" he yelled right back, his frustration over the past few days simply pushing the words from his mouth before he even had time to think about it. The expression on her face at hearing those words was something he had not been expecting. It was not disgust, but she wasn't exactly happy about the situation either.

"What?" she asked stupidly, and Tristan sighed, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes with his fingers.

"Nothing. Forget I said it."

"No… Tristan… I…"

"I like you, okay. Can we just leave it at that?" and when he moved to get up off the bed, she gripped the sleeve of his jacket with one hand, holding him back.

He didn't know what she might have said in reply to that, because once again he acted without thinking, moving his lips to meet hers in a deeply passionate kiss. He noticed seconds later that she froze suddenly, her eyes widening for a moment, and her hands fluttering around his collar in a sort of panic. He knew it would be only seconds before she pushed him away; knew that she would hate him even more and that he was only making this whole thing worse. Seconds later, he might have pulled away had her hands not risen slowly – hesitantly – to gently cradle his face. It took him a few _more_ seconds to realise that she was actually returning the kiss, her lips moving just as desperately against his own, her arms snaking up and around his neck as her kisses deepened slowly.

For Rory's part, her mind was relatively blank. She had never experienced any of this with Dean. They had never before kissed this passionately, and for a moment she felt bad that he had not been the one to take that step with her. Then seconds later, all thoughts of Dean and being with Dean were swept from her mind as Tristan's tongue brushed the very edge of her lips, requesting entrance, and she didn't even have to think before her mouth opened to his, her tongue joining in that slow, sensual dance.

It was then that he was lowering her back to the bed, and that glorious weight of his body atop hers limited breath and thought until decency, and pretty much anything else were swept from her mind seconds later. She felt, rather than saw, that he was taking of his jacket, and indeed, when her hands once again found his back, it was only the thin material of his shirt that acted as a barrier between her and the warmth of his skin.

She knew she mustn't have been thinking when her hands slid to his shoulders, before quickly finding and stripping him of his tie. Her trembling fingers however, would not allow her to open the buttons of his shirt, and she heard him chuckle softly as one of his hands, until now exploring her stomach through the thin fabric of her shirt, moved to assist her.

She heard herself whimper – wondering for a moment who it was that had control of her vocal chords, for she never had thought she would make such a desperate sound – when he removed his hand, but after assisting her with the buttons of his shirt, his hand returned to that almost addictive exploration of her stomach. His left hand, she felt at her waist, before it slid down over her hips to her thigh, finally coming to a rest on the exposed skin below the hem of her skirt, just above her knee. It was slowly that his hand slid up her leg; slowly, as though testing to see just how far he was allowed to go, but Rory, all thoughts of decency and morality disappeared to the back of her mind, could only think of just how much that touch was causing her heart to race, her breath to quicken, the muscles in her stomach to tighten with some desperate need to…

She lifted her knee, granting him easier access to that skin of her thigh, and she could tell by his sudden noise of surprise that he had not been expecting such. Still… he took the movement as an invitation, his hand sliding further and further up under her skirt, while the fingers of his other hand gently plucked open the first button of her shirt.

Rory felt that she couldn't breathe; her breath coming in almost desperate gasps as Tristan's lips moved to explore her neck and jaw. Her hands, more of themselves than with any thought of her own, slid up the muscular expanse of his chest, as her eyes slowly fluttered closed from the addictive perfection of those kisses that crossed her collarbone – she didn't realise that this was only possible because he had undone a couple more buttons, leaving her cleavage bare. Without realising what she was doing, she gripped the collar of his shirt, tugging at it slightly and for a moment Tristan stopped his administrations to assist her to remove it.

When his left hand returned to her thigh beneath her skirt, she felt his thumb brush, if only for a moment, the hem of her underwear, and she couldn't help the sharp intake of breath that she drew hastily into her lungs, nor the soft moan that followed shortly afterwards as his lips and tongue explored the tender skin behind her earlobe. His touch, his kisses caused her heart to pound almost frantically, and her entire body felt like melting into the mattress and exploding at the same time. As it happened, it didn't get a chance to do either.

"Tristan, Rory, I was…"

Emily Gilmore's mouth fell open for a moment, words apparently escaping her, eyes widening in shock and fury as she saw her granddaughter and dinner guest. For their part, Rory and Tristan had frozen for only a moment, before both almost rolled off the bed, Tristan scrambling for his shirt, tie and jacket as his parents arrived, while Rory hastened to button her shirt.

------

It had been a complete disaster, Rory thought to herself as she walked along the main street of Stars Hollow, her mind back on the painful experience that yesterday's dinner had been. Tristan had for the most part borne the brunt of much yelling and screaming, and when Rory had jumped to his defence, she too had been accepted as a target, both sets of parents explaining to her that they were disappointed she would allow herself to be put in just such a situation. Her grandparents blamed Tristan, of course, for attempting to seduce their innocent granddaughter – he had been doing a bloody good job of it too, she thought to herself with a shudder at the feelings and memories from that night – and unfortunately for him, Tristan's parents had taken the same stance.

Still… after much yelling and screaming abuse at the youngest of their dinner guests, and occasionally at their granddaughter, Richard and Emily had insisted that they stay and finish their dinner. Rory and Tristan had been seated at opposite ends – on the same side – of the table so they could barely see one another, and were watched intently by both older couples for the rest of the evening. They had not been given time to talk, or associate in anyway, and barely looked at one another for the rest of the night. When Tristan and his family had left, Emily have given Rory a stony farewell, before Richard had informed her that their driver would take her home. He hadn't said anything more. She might have discussed the whole thing with Tristan at school that day, but he had not been present, and Rory couldn't help but wonder if it had anything to do with dinner.

How could things have gotten so out of hand, she wondered to herself as she kicked at the pavement, a dark frown on her face? How could she have let things progress to where they had, knowing that her grandparents were downstairs, and that the door had not even been locked? One thing she could be thankful for was that Emily and Richard had not told her mother what had occurred. They seemed to have broken off all contact for the time being – something that had both bewildered and pleased Lorelai at the same time – but that made Rory feel all the more guilty.

She sighed softly to herself as she remembered all those feelings and sensations she had felt when with Tristan, knowing at the same time that she would have to give them up. She and Tristan were nothing alike. Their families, the lives they led… all were so very different, and whether she liked him or not, this whole thing was never going to work. Eventually he would grow tired of her, or things would dissolve in one of their almost inevitable fights, and then it would be over. Best not to even try.

Silently and without a word, she pushed open the door of the market, her blue eyes searching the store for the familiar figure, before she made her way over to him.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," she whispered before he had even noticed her, and she watched as he turned slowly, his dark eyes moving to hers. She realised that, as he stared back into her eyes, he was noticing that deep sadness in them and thinking – and Rory would not correct him – that her sadness was all for their failed relationship.

He paused only for a moment, before he opened his arms and allowed her to step into his embrace, holding her tightly for a moment, before softly kissing her forehead. "I missed you," he murmured quietly in her ear, and as he hugged her to his chest, Rory's eyes remained open, all the pain she felt reflected there where Dean would never see nor understand it. The pain was not for them. The pain was for her, for she had finally realised what had taken Tristan a lot less time to figure out, it seemed. She really, truly cared for him. She liked him, but they were not right... would _never_ be right for one another. She liked him, she cared for him, but she chose Dean.

"I missed you too."


	8. I Thought You Were Hot, But

**Author's Note: **Hey guys! I arrived safely back, and have written you all another chapter! I hope you guys all enjoy it! Let me know what you think! And yes... I'm very well aware that none of us, myself included, is thinking too highly of Rory right now!

* * *

Rory sat in perfect silence, her very blue eyes holding those of the woman opposite. Lorelai just stared back, blue eyes - so similar to those of her daughter - studying the face of the young woman, as though attempting to glean whether or not she was telling her the truth.

Rory knew that it was hard for her mother to believe what had happened; knew too that once she had finally accepted her story as truth, she would more than likely receive the lecture of her life, and she suspected too, that she knew exactly what it was to be about. She was, in that last point alone, very wrong.

"And yet you're back together with Dean?"

The question was stated simply, quietly, with no hint of anger or judgement whatsoever; as though perhaps her mother was trying to figure this whole thing through before losing her temper. Rory, completely surprised by that lack of any show of anger in her mother's face, and completely unsuspecting of this particular line of questioning, merely stared at her mother for a moment longer, before shaking off her sudden confusion and answering the question.

"Yes."

"And he's okay with this whole Tristan and you think?"

Rory's eyes fell from her mother's face, finally breaking that steady gaze. "He doesn't know."

"Rory…"

"I know, I know! I should tell him," she cut her mother off mid-sentence, and when Lorelai just looked pointedly at her daughter when she'd spoken those words, Rory continued. "But mum… He doesn't _want_ to know."

"Well neither would I, if I were him, but you still have to tell him."

"But that's just it, Mum. He really doesn't want me to tell him. He told me that he doesn't want to know what went on between Tristan and I. We talking about the whole thing with us that's been going on, and he told me that in future, he just doesn't want to know."

"Even something like this?" Lorelai queried, her eyes holding steadily those of her daughter. "Rory… If your grandmother hadn't caught you and Tristan, you admit yourself that you aren't sure how far it would have gone. If I was Dean, I'd want to know if my girlfriend was _that_ into another guy _while_ she was dating me."

"That thing with Tristan was a mistake," Rory informed her mother flatly, her eyes refusing to show any emotion as she spoke those words. She shrugged as though to say, 'that's that', and Lorelai's eyes narrowed at her young daughter.

"Now? Or at the time?"

"Both."

The word was spoken without hesitation, and the speed at which her daughter replied made Lorelai's eyes narrow even further.

"Don't lie to me, Rory. You're running away."

"What?" Rory asked, her face a mask of confusion. If she understood what her mother was saying to her, she wasn't giving the older woman any clue of it.

"You're running away from Tristan without giving him a chance."

"I'm not—"

"You are, Rory. Trust me. I did it all the time before I met Max. Things were just… To me, they never seemed right, and I just didn't want to take the chance that everything would one day come tumbling down around my ears."

"But Mum, I'm not—"

"Did you talk to Tristan?" The question was asked so quickly that Rory barely had time to blink, before confusion dawned again.

"What? No."

"So you _are_ running." Lorelai said matter-of-factly, as though this ended the whole conversation right then and there.

"I haven't _seen_ Tristan since, Mum," Rory informed her mother, and Lorelai could hear the defensive – and yes, slightly disappointed – tone in her daughter's voice. Still; the fact that she hadn't even seen the boy since that Monday night spoke of Tristan's own reservations about what had happened and her mother's house. If that was the case, and Tristan had used this only as a random make out session with her daughter, then his parents would soon be hearing from an irate Lorelai. "So he's been avoiding you…" she spoke thoughtfully, as though processing this new information; as though this fact were already confirmed. She didn't notice Rory's almost defensive expression when she spoke of Tristan in this manner, otherwise she might have doubled her argument.

"No. He's not been at school."

Lorelai simply stared at her daughter in complete and utter disbelief. "So how do you know the whole thing was a mistake then?" she asked. "How do you know Tristan doesn't really want you as much as you want him?"

Rory just shrugged. "Tristan doesn't want me, Mum," she stated clearly, and by the way she said it, Lorelai took it to mean that she knew this for a fact. In reality, it was the complete opposite. Rory wasn't in fact afraid that Tristan didn't like her, so much as afraid of the fact that he actually did like her; and quite a lot, at that. "As for the mistake… Because he's Tristan. We've never gotten along very well, and—"

"… Yet you have some of the most amazing chemistry I've ever seen," Lorelai cut her daughter off mid-sentence, her voice flat as though stating an incontrovertible fact.

"But you've only ever seen us together at…"

"… That Romeo and Juliet thing? Yeah. So?" and Lorelai shrugged as though to ask what the hell the matter was with that.

"It was a _play_, mother," Rory replied sarcastically. "We were _acting_."

Lorelai just fixed her daughter with a 'no nonsense' look. "Acting or not, Rory, there were some serious sparks there, and I think just about anyone who was really watching _you_ and _not_ your acting would have noticed that."

Rory just watched her mum for a few moments longer in utter disbelief, her blue eyes wide in perplexed amazement. It took her only a few moments to realise that, in fact, her mother was very right. That night at the play… It had been the beginning of this thing, whatever it was, between them, and there was no escaping that fact.

"Did Dean―"

"Dean saw what he wanted to see, Rory. What he was expecting to see," Lorelai reassured her daughter, as though knowing that this would be the exact question that she would ask. "I just don't understand why you would lead a boy, who is so in love with you, on like you are doing, when your interests obviously lie elsewhere."

Rory shook her head stubbornly, and Lorelai sighed. She knew that she would never get her daughter to admit that she cared more for Tristan than she did for Dean. She supposed in the end, considering Tristan's reputation – of which she had heard many times from Rory herself – she should be glad.

"Okay… So answer me this, Rory. Why was it that it was the next day that you decided to get back together with Dean… The day _after_ you and Tristan had that rather… interesting encounter in the bedroom. Why couldn't you _wait_ to sort out your feelings _before_ returning to Dean?"

Rory just watched her mother in silence a moment more, before she shook her head. "It… Just… You don't _get_ it, Mum! Tristan and I… We don't get along; we're always fighting about _something_, be it big or small. He's done things, broken promises, and now it's simply impossible to find any real trust in him." She sighed, rubbing her eyes in an effort to look resigned to the situation, when instead her mother's arguments seemed to have the opposite effect. The way she just kept nodding knowingly at the listed reasons as though she knew something of which Rory was completely unaware was amazingly infuriating, and caused the younger of the two to let something slip that she had not been intending to mention. "And… and eventually he'll get tired of me anyway, so why bother?" she asked finally with an almost defiant shrug.

And finally Lorelai saw the real problem; the reason that, despite all those others that Rory had listed, was the _only_ reason that actually meant something to her daughter. She was afraid. Afraid of the feelings she felt for a guy with Tristan's reputation, afraid of those feelings he could make her feel when he was around, afraid of the fact that he was much more experienced than she was; perhaps afraid too of the knowledge that she might actually _want_ him to take her that next step, and afraid that she would not be enough to satisfy him.

The realisation of what Rory had seemed to feel that Monday night – that things with Tristan had been quickly progressing towards sex – had frightened Lorelai quite a lot. However this later realisation, the one that Rory perhaps had actively _thought_ about being in such a position with Tristan frightened her mother quite a great deal more. Lorelai knew well how some things at some moments in time could "just happen" and yet Rory, her innocent daughter Rory, had actually imagined – or if not imagined, _thought of_ – having sex with Tristan, and that terrified the young mother.

Lorelai, shaking those thoughts from her mind, instead focussed on Rory's question, now unsure that she really should have taken Tristan's side in this. Dean was much _safer_. Still. An honest opinion is what Rory wanted – or not really what she wanted, but knew she would get anyway – and so an honest opinion was what she was going to get.

"Why bother?" she repeated her daughter's words, brows sliding to her forehead in an unmistakable show of surprise. "Because you _like_ him, Rory, and despite your fear, and mine too," and Rory looked surprised at her mother's admission, before flushing when she realised just what her mother meant by those words. "You _have_ to talk to him about this. Why not ask how _he_ feels and sort it all out from there?"

Rory just shrugged, obviously disinterested in giving Tristan a chance to prove her fears correct. "I'm with Dean. It doesn't matter anymore."

Lorelai, ignoring the burst of warm relief in her stomach, just smiled in disbelief at the answer, her eyes sparkling in what had to be almost dismayed amusement. "Not until you have to explain that to Tristan."

------

Tristan couldn't, if he had tried, imagined a longer week. After Monday night, his mind had been little else occupied. Rory now dominated all his waking – and sometimes his sleeping – thoughts, and try as he might to focus on other things, he couldn't remove her from dominance in his mind.

It was with eager anticipation, once he and his parents had left that night, that he looked forward to Tuesday morning at school when he would see her again. So greatly was he looking forward to seeing her again, that the ensuing rant about how he could possibly have thought seducing the Richard and Emily Gilmore's granddaughter in their own home had been a good idea. He also allowed their telling him just how much they believed he would ruin their chances of being accepted as graciously into social gatherings as before – for Emily and Richard dominated them – and their consequent forbidding him to pursue her to wash over him without a second thought. He knew, of course, that he would, and that nothing they could possibly do would stop him. His parents seemed to know this also.

It had been early the next morning that he had been told about his father's business trip; a business trip out of town upon which his presence was absolutely crucial. No amount of protests, angry arguments, or furious tirades had swayed his parents, and when he'd pointed out that he couldn't possibly get the time off school for the rest of the week, that had explained – in a sickeningly sweet way – that they had arranged everything, and had handed him a list of assignments he would need finished by the time he returned.

The week had passed slowly, and he found himself whiling the time away with thoughts of her, of that encounter with her at her grandparents before they'd been interrupted and the possible reception he was likely to receive were he to arrive in town before they were officially a couple – for he didn't doubt that was where their next step would take them. In the end. He had determined to wait until the following Monday – despite the utter torture he would have to endure waiting those extra few days – and sort everything out then.

He scoffed at his parents' idea that she'd have "seen the error in her ways" and "made a much more sensible choice in her life" and would refuse any advances or suggestions he would make to her regarding a possible future together. He laughed them down for he _knew_ now, more than he knew anything else in the world, that Rory Gilmore actually liked him.

------

So it was, with an eager eye, that he searched for her his first day back, his dark blue eyes moving easily around the schoolyard with which he was so familiar; searching for that face – those eyes – that by now he knew so well. He was not dissuaded when he failed, presuming that she was either running late – yeah right – or else had already gone inside, hiding herself out in the library before class – which was the more likely of the two.

So, slinging his bag over one shoulder, he made his way into the school that had at one time meant the world to him; if only because he knew that he was its King and could have any girl at any time. That had, of course, changed the minute Rory Gilmore had stepped through those doors. From the very first she had fought against, and remained completely impervious to his charms, while he slowly found himself becoming fascinated by the young woman, and unable to remove her from his mind.

As he stepped through the large wooden doors that lead to the library, Tristan's eyes took a moment to scan the darker area of the room, and soon found the face of the young woman for whom he had been searching. An unconscious smile twisted his lips as he saw her, curled up on one of the comfortable sofa chairs, her eyes riveted to the book in her lap as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world. To her, it probably was.

He saw her rise from her seat then, turning into the tall shelves that lined the room, her movements slow and graceful, although at the same time they caem across almost studied, as though she were putting a lot of thought into where she was walking. As though perhaps she knew that he was following.

When she turned a corner in the shelving, disappearing from the view of the rest of the libraries inhabitants, Tristan chuckled, quickly following her behind the shelves, catching her around the waist and pinning her back against the musty books in this rarely used section of the library – rarely used for studying, at least.

Her small gasp made him smile in amusement, before he stepped closer, pinning her between the shelves of books and his own lean figure.

"Hey Rory," he murmured into her ear as his lips gently teased her earlobe.

Rory of course, couldn't understand what had happened. One second she had been on here way to find a copy of _'The Tempest'_ by William Shakespeare, and the next, she found herself pinned against the shelves of books she had been intent on searching through, Tristan's body pressed tightly against hers, his lips at her ear catching her breath in her throat.

"Tristan!" she gasped in surprise and what she knew – but thankfully he didn't – as a crazy sort of desire to continue where they'd left off the previous Monday. Then realising what she was thinking, Rory pushed at his chest sharply, ignoring the feeling of that toned chest through the thin material of his shirt, and trying not to imagine what she had seen firsthand only a week before. "What are you doing?"

Tristan allowed her to push him away a little, his hand resting on the bookcase by her head, a wry grin pulling at his lips. "I would have thought that was obvious."

Rory glanced around, as though afraid that someone might have seen them together, and for the first time Tristan began to doubt his firm assurance that things between them would be naturally smooth from now on. Something was obviously bothering Rory.

Rory took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and a feeling of dread began to work its way into the pit of his stomach, for surely it would not be this hard for her to tell him that she liked him, right? Even if she had hated him for a time there, something like this, after what had happened, should have been easy. Sure, there might have been some embarrassed laughter, and maybe a few awkward pauses, especially for someone as innocent as Rory herself was, but nothing like this; nothing like that awful expression of resignation of her face. That meant something completely different.

"Tristan, we're not together," and with those simple words, his worst fears were confirmed.

For Rory's part, she felt a large hole open up in the pit of her stomach. Her mother had assured her that telling Tristan how things were would not be easy; that she might even want to reconsider things between her and Dean. She had scoffed of course, for she knew Tristan's reputation, and knew that to date him was only an incredibly easy way to get oneself hurt, but now, she wasn't so sure. Her mother had been right, about how hard it was going to be at least. "I can't do this."

When he just stared at her with a blank expression on his face, she seemed to think that he required an explanation, and just shrugged almost helplessly. "I don't know why, Tristan. I just… Things with us just won't work. We're too different, you know that much at least. In the end we'd end up fighting and broken up. It's better that we don't…" but her voice trailed off, and she couldn't seem to say anything more on the subject.

Now, Tristan would never be sure how his mind made the jump, but for some reason his mind automatically fixed on perhaps the one thing he dreaded more than anything.

"You're back together with Stockboy."

Her eyes narrowed almost automatically at the term he had used, and true to Rory's previous attitude towards him, she defended the young man he continued to dislike more and more every day. "_Don't_ call him Stockboy!" she snapped, her eyes flashing angrily. "His _name_ is Dean."

"It's a free world, Mary; I can do what I want." Then his eyes narrowed, dark blue studying bright blue for a long moment, and he watched satisfactorily when her eyes fell from his own, and she once more became the timid girl he had encountered on occasion; the girl who was much easier to manipulate. And to anger. "So when did you and Stockboy hook up again."

Her eyes lifted to find his again, and they were almost resigned. Not angry, although for a moment he saw the faint flicker of annoyance when he used the nickname he'd found early for the young man who seemed constantly to win the attention of the young woman he had so craved. What did Dean have that he didn't?

"Tuesday night."

So she had come to school, obviously wanting to discuss what had happened, and because he hadn't been there, she had gone straight back to Dean. _Curse_ his parents for sending him on the business trip.

Then again… How was he to know that Rory would ever have chosen to be with him, even if he had been there that Tuesday? For all he knew, they would have discussed what had happened, and she would have told him that she wanted to be with Dean. It wasn't as though something similar – although infinitely more innocent – had happened before.

Was that the problem then? Was what actually _happened_ the problem, more than the solution? Had that been what sent her scurrying back to the safety of Dean's arms? That thought almost made him smirk. That Dean was thought of as 'safe' was not a great sign that the relationship would last. Still… She had chosen Dean over him twice now when she had the chance to pick otherwise, and if things continued much like this, it would be Dean who would end up with her in the end.

"Good choice, Rory. Back to the 'safe' guy. Hope _that_ works out for you," he told her, his voice filled with a mocking tone that made Rory's eyes narrow.

"Dean is not the 'safe' guy!" she snapped back, realising at once of course, that he was in fact, entirely accurate. Dean was considered the 'safe' choice by her. Dean had never broken her heart; Dean had always been there; Dean would _always_ be there for her. Dating Dean, there were no risks, no chance that things might not work out. Dean was 'safe'. "I love Dean."

Now that hurt, Tristan realised, but he pushed those feelings to the back of his mind, and instead just smirked at her.

"Really?" and that one word told Rory all that she needed to know. He didn't believe her at all. "Is that really the reason, Rory? Or are you just running?"

And there it was again. The assumption that she was running away from something that she had; running away from something that scared or frightened her in a way that even she didn't understand. But no. She wasn't running. She had made a decision, and she would stand by it.

"I'm not running. I know what I want, and it's not you."

Tristan just shrugged as though to say 'oh well', when in fact he felt his insides shrivel away. Damn it, why was Rory the only girl he found himself wanting in this whole bloody school, and yet the one girl who just couldn't seem to get it into her head that he might actually be worthwhile?

"Well I suppose if that's what you want, I can hardly compete with that."

His voice was careless, and immediately Rory's eyes narrowed with irritation, and Tristan smiled at the accurate guess of how the attitude would anger the young woman.

"You don't care?"

Tristan just chuckled, despite feeling that perhaps he was being torn apart inside. How could have he been so confident about what was going to happen with Rory? The girl was so damn erratic in where her feelings and attention were being bestowed. Granted, that first time they had kissed, both had juts broken up with their respective partners, and the kiss had been a consequence of that. Still, for Rory, it seemed to have meant nothing, whereas for Tristan, that kiss had been the beginning of all those feelings for Rory that he knew now he was better without.

"Of course I don't care."

Rory's eyes narrowed further, and she seemed to suspect that he might be lying. At least that was the general feeling he got from her eyes. She didn't believe him at all. "But you said―"

"That I liked you? Heck _yes_, I did, Rory. You were hot."

He saw something in her eyes as he said that; something flickering at the back of those bright blue eyes he adored so very much. Still, in the forefront of those eyes was the anger that he had been expecting at the words.

"But…"

"When I said I liked you, I meant that you're hot. Sorry if you misinterpreted it the wrong way. That's not my problem, but Rory… Surely you didn't think that I might have chosen you over everyone I have ever been with?" he asked, and Rory felt something break inside her; something falling heavily into her stomach. "Because like it or not, Mary, you're hardly the best choice to… satisfy… any guy's expectations." He paused a moment, as though thinking that through, before smirking. "Except Stockboy, it seems. He likes that whole celibate life… Maybe there's just smoothing that he doesn't want you to know…" he suggested, one brow sliding up to his forehead, his lips twisting in an amused smirk.

He knew he'd hit a nerve when he saw angry tears rise suddenly to those very blue eyes, and he laughed amusedly to himself, watching as her eyes narrowed satisfactorily. Inside, he felt his whole world falling apart; felt anger that he could never remember feeling before slowly growing to fill up that hole that Rory had left within him.

She clenched her fists, her eyes blazing with anger as she stared him down, and for a moment, Tristan thought she might find something to say to that last one, but then without a word, she turned and stormed off, and as she turned, he saw a small tear slide from the corner of her eye and trail down that beautiful smooth-skinned cheek.

When she was gone, Tristan sighed heavily, resting his head on the arm that still rested on the bookcase. He knew of course that he had been needlessly mean to her. He could have just accepted the fact that once again she had chosen Dean over him, and left it at that. Still, he had found himself unable to remain silent; unable to allow himself to be rejected by a young woman he should not have ordinarily cared one _whit_ about. Still despite everything, despite all that he had said, he knew with a surety that he did in fact like her a whole lot more than he had let on. Yet know, he had the feeling that he might have just screwed everything up beyond repair.

Why the _hell_ couldn't he manage to keep his mouth _shut_ sometimes?


	9. Planning Jealousy

**Author's Note:** Okay! Next chapter! Let me know what you guys all thought! nods Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Rory hurried away from the hurtful words of the guy she had thought that, for a short while at least, she could possibly be with, her cheeks flushing pink with the embarrassment of just how wrong she had been about him. Or more correctly, how _right_ she had been about him; because despite her mother's assurances to the contrary, she had believed him entirely capable of something like this. 

She felt tears beginning to sting her eyes as she moved quickly through the halls of the school, wondering not for the first time why it was that his words had so hurt her. It became clear soon enough – for she was a smart girl – that she obviously still had feelings for the young man; and quite significant feelings at that. All that her mother had said about Dean being 'safe' came rushing back into her mind, and although she tried her hardest to deny the fact that this could be the case, she found that it was entirely impossible to do so. Dean, for her, had always been safe choice; the guy who had never pushed her into something that she didn't want to do. Then again, he hadn't really inspired in her any desires to take their relationship further either.

It was later that day that Rory hurried into her English Lit class, frowning darkly, her blue eyes automatically searching those in the class for the familiar blonde hair and blue eyes of the guy who had once been her nemesis, and now seemed to be someone who was anything but. Memories of that Monday night at her grandparents house kept flooding back into her mind, and she couldn't help the shiver that snuck down her spine at the remembered feelings she had encountered that day. Everything had been so perfect; and yet it had all been so new. So perhaps it wasn't just Tristan who inspired these feelings. Perhaps it was not so much the fact that it had been him, as it had been the new and exciting feelings he was invoking within her…

She pondered that thought for just a moment, before deciding that this must be the case, because Tristan obviously meant nothing to her. She was in love with Dean after all; she would always love Dean. Anyone who thought or said otherwise was crazy.

------

"What?"

Dean just stared at her as though she'd gone completely and utterly crazy; big brown eyes confused and more than a little wary.

"I think we should take our relationship to the next level."

Still he stared at her as though they weren't having this conversation, and that this was some crazy dream. His eyes were narrowed and fell from hers as he pondered the implications behind what she was saying, and what it could possibly mean if he said no… Or even yes. How would this affect their relationship?

"Rory… I'm not sure…"

"Well I am, Dean. I've thought it through. It makes sense. We've been dating for what seems like forever, with only a couple of hiccups. Why not take this one step further and see where that takes us."

"Rory, where is this coming from?"

Rory just shook her head in frustration. Why was it that Dean was questioning her on this? Why wasn't he jumping at a chance that guys were supposed to jump at? What was wrong with her. "Me, Dean! This is coming from me!"

Dean just shook his head in frustration, and Rory knew that she had somehow missed his point. "No, Rory. I mean… Why the sudden decision? Where did it come from?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused herself now, and Dean just shrugged.

"I don't know. Where did it come from? Does this have anything to do with you and―"

"Not this again, Dean? I thought you said you didn't want to know any of that!" and her voice was slightly snappy as she shot that back at him. Dean, sensing that he was upsetting her, quickly shook his head.

"No, no. I don't. I just don't understand the change of heart."

"What change of heart?" Rory demanded to know, becoming increasingly fed up with this conversation. "This is me, Dean. I've thought it all through; I've had _ages_ to think it through, and I want to take this next step."

"And this has nothing to do with… _him_, right?"

Rory paused a moment, her hesitation all the confirmation that Dean needed, and he practically pounced on the subject.

"So it does! Rory… Don't let him pressure you into anything. Don't let him make you feel that you're worth less than those girls who don't give a damn who they sleep around with. God, Rory! You're so much more special than those girls!"

"And fragile too?"

"What?" Dean asked, surprised. "No."

"Then stop treating me that way, Dean. I really want this. Really."

Dean seemed to be fighting a serious internal battle for a moment, his dark eyes flickering down at Rory's figure before dancing away again. Then his gaze returned to her own, holding her gaze as though to make sure she was being serious. This was a huge step to take, and he didn't want her making it for the wrong reasons.

When he saw no hesitation in her eyes; nothing that suggested she didn't truly mean what she was saying, Dean surrendered finally with a nod, his hesitance more than obvious. Or more correctly, his nervousness, Rory thought to herself, a thrill coursing through her body at the thought of what they were about to do.

"Okay," he spoke finally, smiling slowly at the young woman he so adored. "I know a place we won't be disturbed," and reaching out to take her hand, he led her away.

------

When Tristan saw her on the Thursday morning, he knew immediately that something was different about Rory Gilmore. Something about her seemed almost… He didn't know, but whatever it was, it was driving him crazy trying to figure out what the hell it was. Something about her had changed, and it confused him more than he dared admit.

It was true that he had officially sworn off Rory Gilmore; he had announced this to his friends that he was giving up his pursuit of her. He had even gone far enough to surrender that pursuit to any of his friends who desired to follow it. He had never thought, of course, that someone might actually take up the chase. Nor that he would succeed.

Malachi Kingston was perhaps one of the more popular of those at Chilton; only a step or two down from its king; Tristan, despite his being a few years older. Many a young woman had begged for his favours, and Malachi had bedded the better looking of those, along with almost half the cheerleading squad, and more than enough of the female population at the school. He was not the sort of guy that one, Miss Rory Gilmore, would generally be seen talking to, and yet coming out of his Algebra class, he was granted the sight of the lovely Miss Gilmore with her back against the wall, laughing playfully – flirtatiously – at something an equally amused Mr Kingston was saying to her. This of course, was not what bothered Tristan as he witnessed the two. It was the way that Malachi was leaning towards her, his forearm resting on the wall by her head, while she held her books coyly to her chest, almost like a barrier between them.

This thought might have been comforting to some, Tristan thought to himself as Malachi gestured for her to precede him – with a small bounce in her step, Rory acquiesced. Yet it was not so to him, for he had many a time seen that same barrier between him and those girls he had pretty soon afterwards had his way with; one just the other day, while he tried – and failed – to take his mind off Rory. It was a barrier that was no barrier at all. It was almost a playful suggestion to the guy to remove that final barrier; an invitation of sorts, and from the more than interested expression in Malachi's eyes, it was an invitation he was willing to take.

What the _hell_ had happened? He demanded of his mind, forcing himself to retrace his steps this morning. Had he woken up in some crazy, mixed up reality this morning? Or was this some sort of horrible dream that his subconscious had concocted to torture him? It surely seemed like it, because this wasn't Rory Gilmore. She didn't give herself to random guys she barely knew. She didn't give herself to anyone at all!

_And yet she almost gave herself to you. Are you so special?_

The thought slipped into his mind as though whispered by a cunning voice bent on driving him completely up the wall. Despite his not wanting to, he had to admit that the stupid little voice was right. She _had_ almost given herself to him that night. Not even he knew where that might have gone had her grandmother not interrupted them.

He wanted to curse, scream, rant and rave when he glanced back up and saw that Malachi and Rory seemed to have vanished into thin air. He could only _guess_ what that meant. Still, he had let all his friends know that Rory was up for grabs now, and could hardly condemn one of them when they took the opportunity given them.

Realising suddenly that his breathing had sped up to a terrific rate as he considered what might be going on with Malachi and Rory right now, Tristan tried to calm down. How could she do that? How could she change so dramatically overnight? Why the hell wasn't she still with Dean?

At one time, that might not have bothered him, the obvious fact that she and Dean were no longer together. Yet right now, it made no logical sense. For one day, she had been dating the guy, adamant that she cared greatly for him. Then next second, they'd broken up, and Rory was looking for quick flings in empty classrooms, cars and janitor's closets – all classic places that Malachi might take the young Miss Gilmore. What the _hell_ was going on?

------

Rory felt herself pushed roughly against the wall of the empty classroom, her breath expelled from her lungs in a rush, and moments later she felt the warmth of breath on her neck, just below her ear. Seconds later, she heard a low chuckle.

"And this would be the point where I would have my way with you, Miss Gilmore."

Rory chuckled, pushing him playfully away, only to have her wrist caught as he pulled her back in and twirled them around in a circle. Rory squealed in girlish delight, and Malachi couldn't help but laugh softly.

"And anyone who followed us here would have heard that and taken it to mean so much more…"

Rory couldn't help but flush at the suggestion in his voice and the small quirk of his eyebrow, but she merely shook her head again, and laughed softly to herself. "You, Mr Kingston, are far too charming for your own good."

Malachi just shrugged at that, grinning cheekily down at her, and Rory had to admit that he was attractive. With rich, dark hair the colour of ebony, and light brown eyes, he perhaps was one of the most attractive men she had ever met before in her life. Still, she found herself remarkably able to resist his charms, more than likely because it wasn't her he was interested in winning over.

"So you're sure she'll go for it?"

Rory nodded decisively up at him, her bright blue eyes sparkling merrily. "I'm sure. You're Malachi Kingston, for heaven's sake. There's no way she's going to turn you down."

Malachi hesitated for a moment, his eyes holding hers and the tiniest hint of doubt flashing across the soft brown. "You're sure? Cause I heard that she was interested in Tristan."

Rory looked at him in amusement. "Surely you're not worried? You're at least a few years older than he is. What's the problem?"

Malachi shrugged. "If Tristan wants the girl, Tristan gets the girl. That's just how this place works."

"I wouldn't have taken you for the insecure sort, Malachi."

"I'm not insecure."

"And yet you're afraid of losing girls to a guy three years your junior? How is that not insecure?"

Malachi just studied her with curiosity for a long moment. "You know, Rory. You really are an interesting sort."

Rory frowned. "What do you mean?"

Malachi shrugged, his brown eyes fixing on hers. "Well… Tristan spent… well it seems like _years_ trying to win you over, _always_ trying to break you and that Dean guy up. Then, out of the blue, he succeeds, you guys hook up for about one night, and then you back to your ex, right?"

Rory shrugged. "What about it?"

"Well, that bit's fine. I get that. It's not so strange," and now he fixed her with a steady gaze, those attractive, light brown eyes serious. "It's this next bit that's thrown me for a loop," and his brow quirked again to his forehead. "You rejected Tristan when he believes you two are going to finally make a go of the serious thing," and he seemed to shake his head slightly in disbelief that Tristan would even want to attempt anything of the sort, and Rory shook her head in amusement. "Then dump this Dean guy, and now you're trying to make him jealous."

Rory shrugged as though to say 'what about it', and Malachi's brow lifted once more to his darkly tanned forehead. "When does _any_ of that make sense?" and he paused a moment. "And how do you know this is making him jealous?"

Rory grinned. "Because you've just managed to get what he's been trying for what 'seems like _years_' to get."

Malachi's frown turned slowly up into a smile, a sparkle coming to life in his eyes that made him seem just that much more attractive. "Wow, Rory. You've done me a favour."

Rory frowned. "How so?"

"Tristan wanted the girl, I got the girl."

Rory shook her head in amusement. "People only _think_ you got the girl."

"Which is as good as getting the girl, you realise."

Rory frowned. "How so?"

Malachi shrugged. "You know my reputation."

Rory shrugged. "I guess so… Still… Tristan's not looking for that sort of thing."

"No?"

He seemed genuinely surprised by that, but Rory saw the barely-there twinkle in his eyes.

"No."

"You seem confident."

"Well you said it earlier, didn't you? And you'd know better than me."

"How's that?"

"You're his friend."

"Yeah… and you're the girl he went after _days_ after you guys hooked up. _That_ would have been my first clue," he pointed out, and she shrugged.

"That could've been for anything."

Malachi shrugged. "Not for Tristan. Tristan is more often than not the 'one night' kinda guy. No second chances. It changes from time to time, sure. That whole Summer thing, and those others a while back too… But none of those…" but his voice trailed off, and he shook his head.

"What?" but when he shook his head again, Rory sighed in annoyance. "You can't do that! Just tell me! What's it going to matter?"

Malachi shrugged. "Maybe nothing, but maybe something. I don't think I really should get involved."

"You're already involved, buddy," Rory told him, pushing him back against the wall with a hand on his chest. "People don't know _what_ you're doing to me in here, but they know we're here, and that chances are it's not innocent."

"Which unfortunately, it is."

She fixed him with a playful glare, and he chuckled, taking the hand that pressed him against the wall and twirling her into his arms, her back to his chest. His arms snuck around her waist, and struggle as she might, Rory couldn't escape.

"Malachi!" she cried out, struggling against him, and she heard his soft chuckle in her ear.

"Oh come now, Rory. You don't think people are going to ask questions if you come out barely ruffled? We need to ruffle some of these prim feathers of yours, Miss Gilmore." Then his lips touched her neck softly, and Rory felt a shudder ripple down her spine. "And you need to ruffle some of mine…"

------

Tristan felt sick when he saw Malachi at the end of the, the guy's hair a little mussed, the hint of soft rosy lipstick on his collar matching exactly that shade that Rory had been wearing earlier. He didn't want to know what had happened in that classroom – for he had heard the rumour that Rory and Malachi had disappeared into one for a fair part of their lunch break – and tried to greet Malachi with even a small show of friendship. Generally, the two got along brilliantly, despite an almost insane competitive nature. Now however, Tristan felt nothing if not trumped, and barely got a half decent smile out of his face. It felt more like a grimace. He didn't doubt it looked pretty close to a grimace too, to judge by the expression on Malachi's face.

"What's up, buddy?" he asked as he unlocked the door to the sleek red Ferrari parked beside Tristan's, in comparison, suddenly very lame car. "You're looking like something you ate disagreed with you."

Tristan just shook his head, almost desperately wanting to ask the guy what had happened with Rory, and yet knew at the same time that he couldn't do anything of the sort. He wasn't sure what had happened, but if it was anything like what he suspected, he really didn't want to know; didn't want to hear it confirmed. "I'll be right."

Malachi just nodded, before sliding behind the wheel of the Ferrari, closing the door – the dark tint of the windows hid his amused grin from the younger guy. Rory's plan was working brilliantly.

Tristan, for his part, suddenly decided he didn't want to go home just yet, and waving goodbye to Malachi as he pulled away, he hurried back into the school. His eyes scanning the halls, searching those faces still remaining there for the one he desperately needed to see. Damn it! Why had he said all those things to her the other day? Why had he insisted on reacting like he had? He knew this whole thing was his fault of course. Knew that if he hadn't said any of those things she'd still be with Dean; the 'safe' guy. God, he was such an idiot sometimes!

------

Her tie off, the collar of her shirt pulled open, Rory grimaced, craning her neck slightly to the side in order to better see that hint of the mark on her skin reflected in the dark glass of the window. Her mother was going to _freak_!

Granted, the fact that she hadn't yet lost her temper about the Tristan thing was a little odd, but by then, Rory had been back dating Dean. The 'safe' guy.

She frowned to herself when she remembered the previous night after school; all that she had said to Dean, and the words she had used to convince him that it was what she wanted. In the end, she had known that it hadn't been. Still, she had pressed the issue, so she said nothing. In the end, it was Dean who had pulled away from a heavy spate of kissing with a shake of his head. His explanation for his hesitance was that they weren't ready for this step; that it seemed wrong. Rory couldn't have agreed more.

Forget the fact that she wasn't sure where her feelings were in relation to Dean, but couple that with the fact that _none_ of his kisses made her even close to as crazy as Tristan's had, and she had known that she was in trouble. Still, she had so royally screwed up with Tristan, that she knew the guy's pride wouldn't allow him to come grovelling back to a girl who had rejected him more times than she could count. So her tactics had turned dirty, and a brief discussion with Malachi had yielded the results that she desired. Her plan in motion, things had been under her control. Or at least she had thought so.

Touching the tender skin at the curve of her neck and shoulder, she winced, pursing her lips as she pulled her collar aside to better see the hickey. She should have cleared the rules with Malachi first, she realised. One of them should have been 'no hickeys' but when he had insisted, his arms so tightly around her waist, there was little that she could really do about it. He did say that seeing it would drive Tristan crazy, but it was in just such a place that should she wear her shirt as she generally did – as was required by the school's dress code – Tristan would never see it.

"You've certainly changed your tune."

Her heart jumping to her throat in sudden shock, she whirled on the spot, still tugging her collar to one side, and she saw Tristan's very blue eyes move to that now very clear red mark on the skin of her neck. She saw something flash momentarily in his eyes for a moment, before a smirk twisted his lips – those amazing lips that did crazy things to her emotions – one brow lifting to his forehead.

"_Definitely_ something new and different from you, Mary."

The amusement in her eyes when she heard the nickname tore at Tristan, perhaps more than the sight of that hickey on her neck, even knowing where it came from. What did that mean? Did that mean she wasn't a 'Mary' anymore? Or was she just amused at his attempt to annoy her?

"I guess I can take that as a compliment, can I?"

Tristan just shrugged, moving slightly to lean with casual elegance against the wall, his other brow rising to join the first on his forehead. "Depends."

"On?" and the sparkling, almost playful challenge in her eyes heartened Tristan a little; his usual cocky self coming back to the fore.

"You tell me."

A smirk twisted her lips, and she took a couple of steps towards him. One step closer, and he'd get his arms around her waist, pull her to him and…

She stopped, just barely out of reach, those big blue eyes flashing in amusement, that hurt he'd seen so clearly the other day flashing only briefly across the eyes he so adored. "Sorry Tristan," she almost purred, and Tristan had to swallow hurriedly the disappointment that threatened to rise and swallow him whole. "But how could I possibly think that you might choose me over everyone you have ever been with?" she asked, and Tristan felt his stomach drop painfully at the words that mirrored his own from a couple of days previous. "A little presumptuous of me, isn't it?"

Then she shook her head, and he saw something close to regret in her eyes as she moved to pick up her bag and the tie that lay draped across it.

"Rory…"

She turned back to face him; none of that cocky, playful side of her in her gaze. She was once again that innocent Rory, hurt by those words he had spoken.

"Yeah?"

Taking a deep breath, realising that this would be perhaps one of the very few times in his life he would do so, he apologised. "Sorry for what I said that day. I didn't mean any of it."

Rory just held his gaze for a long moment, something passing silently between them that neither really understood. Then she turned and the moment was broken.

"I have a bus to catch."


	10. A Very Mistaken Identity

**Author's Note:** And another chapter! Thanks for all your reviews, praise and comments! I love hearing from your guys! Anyway… I hope you enjoy this chapter, but before you begin, I'd like to offer a bit of a warning; this chapter's a little darker than the others…

* * *

Rory's mind, despite everything, didn't seem to want to drop that expression in Tristan's eyes as he apologised for what he had said that day. She knew of course, that she probably deserved his anger that day. Tristan, she knew, was a proud guy, and her rejecting him more times than either really cared to count would make him more than unlikely to come seeking her attention once again. She wouldn't have been surprised if he'd chosen to ignore her after this stunt with Malachi. But he hadn't. Instead, he had apologised. Go figure.

Once again, for what felt like the millionth time that evening, an image of those dark blue eyes drifted into her consciousness, and cursing– or at least coming as close to cursing as Rory did – she threw her pen with more than a little force across the table, watching with narrowed eyes as it bounced twice on the smooth tabletop before skittering off across the floor. With something that was somewhere between a sigh and a sob, she dropped her head to her hands, closing her eyes as she tried to shut him out.

"Rory…"

The voice was expectant, as though willing her to tell its owner everything, and Rory looked up into the face of her very concerned best friend. Lane's eyes seemed to say they understood, whatever the problem was, and that she was more than willing to both listen and sympathise.

"Lane," she mumbled softly, acknowledging the girl's presence before her eyes fell back to the smooth tabletop. "What have I done?"

Lane had been away for almost a week on a bible camp her mother had insisted she attend, and so she had missed much of the drama surrounding her best friend and the handsome blonde man known as Tristan.

"What's up?"

Rory glanced up at her friend a moment, risking a glance over her shoulder and noticing that Luke seemed highly interested in cleaning the table a few away from hers right now. Turning back to Lane, she shook her head. "Somewhere else."

As she gathered her stuff together, moving to retrieve her pen from the side of the diner where it had finally come to a halt, Luke intercepted her, his gaze serious. "You broke up with Dean."

Rory just looked up at him in surprise, rising from her crouched position on the floor, her big blue eyes finding his. She wasn't sure whether his words were a statement or a question from the way that he had spoken them, and so just nodded with a short, "Yeah".

"Sorry."

It was an awkward conversation, and Rory, unsure as to where this was going, merely shook her head in response. "It's fine. Things with Dean…" She paused momentarily, glancing over at Lane, and the girl took the hint to come and rescue her. "They weren't going anywhere."

"Rory," Lane spoke, and Rory turned thankfully to her friend.

"Sorry, Luke, but I have to go."

Luke nodded; his manner hesitant as though unsure as to what he should be doing. The rag he held in his hands twisted tightly around his fingers.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, seeming to relax as he asked what was obviously bothering him. "Because if not…"

"I'm fine, Luke. It was just time."

Luke nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer and turning away.

"So was that it?" Lane asked in a quiet whisper in Rory's ear.

Sighing, Rory shook her head. "Not even half of it. Let's go."

------

It was a short while later that Lane stared in unconcealed shock at her friend, noticing in those big blue eyes that none of her story had been changed or elaborated.

"Rory!" she cried out, the quiet stillness of the deserted bridge area broken by her sudden exclamation. "Who the hell _are_ you?"

Rory was surprised, because in that short phrase, she heard a vague sort of admiration in her friend's voice, as though perhaps she was proud of Rory's behaviour. That made one of them, Rory thought, because she knew more than her friend just how much she had screwed up her chances to be with Tristan. Shrugging at her friend helplessly, she said nothing.

"So what does this Malachi guy want then?" Lane asked. "Because it sounds to me as though playing around with him could be a bit dangerous."

Rory sighed softly, shaking her head. Malachi had been a mistake, she knew. Tristan was not about to go after her now that people thought she and Malachi had been together. It would be completely against his character and personality; he would never settle for second best. Now that she had 'been' with Malachi; had hooked up with him and not Tristan, going back to her would be beneath him. She wasn't being unfair; she wasn't being bitter. She was being honest with herself. Things with Tristan had been shot to hell.

Granted, Malachi had been more than happy to help out… for a price. Not that it was a price she was unwilling to pay.

Nothing could have shocked her more when the favour Malachi had begged of her was to get him on a date with Paris. Paris, out of all the girls in the school, had for some reason captured the attention of the young man. Despite her assurances to him of course, convincing Paris to go out with a guy who was well-known as a player seemed somewhat impossible. Still, she had liked Tristan for years, apparently, and _that_ young man had been a player for years.

Who cares if he appeared to have changed?

"Paris," she replied wearily. "He wants Paris."

Rory was amused by the look of complete surprise on her friend's face. "Really? Paris?"

Rory nodded. "Really. Paris."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"_Wow_."

"I know."

"But… _Paris_."

Rory nodded with her first laugh of the day, a fact that Lane didn't fail to ignore. "That's what I thought. Out of all the girls in the school, why Paris?"

Lane just thought about that for a moment, finishing her thoughts with a shrug. "No idea. But as long as things with Malachi as just all show, that's fine. I just want you to be careful."

Rory nodded, blue eyes thankful for her friend's concern. "Thanks Lane."

There was a long pause, and they just sat there in silence for a long moment, and finally Lane spoke again. "So you really asked Dean to sleep with you?"

Rory hesitated only momentarily before nodding slowly, wondering at the same time what had possessed her to ask such a thing. Perhaps it had been the desperate hope that her feelings for Dean were so much more than those for Tristan; that she cared more for the 'safe' guy than about the one who had the greatest potential to hurt her. More than anything else, she supposed it had a lot to do with a desire to find out if those feelings that Tristan had so easily aroused within her at her grandparents' house had existed when with Dean.

They hadn't.

God, she was in trouble.

"Yeah."

"And…"

Rory sighed. "And what?"

"Did you guys…" and she gestured with her hand, as though to indicate 'follow through'. "You know… Do it?"

"No."

Lane just watched her for a moment, as though waiting for her to say more, and when Rory remained silent, she spoke again.

"What happened?"

Taking a deep breath, no longer really wanting to discuss this, she knew of course that she couldn't deny her friend _some_ kind of explanation.

"Nothing much. Some heavy making out, and that's as far as it went."

"Yeah?"

Rory just nodded silently, her eyes staring at the ground.

"So who pulled away first?"

Rory sighed heavily, and Lane seemed to realise for the first time that she didn't really want to talk about what happened. Still, Rory answered nonetheless.

"Dean."

Lane looked surprised, and Rory was waiting for a 'really?' from her friend, but it never came. Lane had obviously taken the hint that Rory didn't want to talk about it and decided to drop the whole thing.

"And Malachi gave you a hickey?"

Rory nodded, screwing her nose up in a way that made Lane laugh. "Yes," she answered petulantly with a frown, and she pulled the collar of her shirt back so Lane could see the now fading mark on her skin.

"Wow," was all Lane seemed able to say as she stared at the hickey on her friend's neck. "That guy is really…"

"Confident? Cocky? Arrogant? All of the above," Rory explained with a soft laugh. "I just think that getting him involved was a bad idea."

Lane shrugged. "I don't see how. Jealous guys are more apt to do something crazy to win over the girl," she answered with a faint smile. "I think Malachi was a good choice."

Rory sighed, shaking her head. "No. Malachi was a bad choice. He's Tristan's main competition at Chilton. The girls that Tristan likes, apparently Tristan gets. Malachi has never beaten him there. Until now."

Lane frowned a moment, as though thinking this through. "So any other guy would have been a good choice?" she asked, as though trying to figure out her reasoning.

Rory nodded. "Tristan won't want Malachi's seconds."

------

It was the next day that Rory was walking through Chilton's halls, her mind preoccupied with the rather awkward encounter with Dean in Dosie's, and her mother's endless questions afterwards, asking what exactly had happened to break the two up. Lorelai was not stupid, Rory knew, and she would have seen the resignation in both pairs of eyes. They'd broken up, and weren't getting back together. Not again. Naturally, Lorelai had wanted to know all that had happened. Naturally, Rory couldn't tell her.

Suddenly a pair of arms caught her around the waist and swung her to one side, and she felt herself pushed up against a wall, light brown eyes – sparkling merrily – seeking hers quickly, attractive lips pulling into a grin before moving to place a small kiss at her chin. "Hey, Rory."

Frowning, Rory pushed him away, blue eyes stern and flashing in annoyance at the young man. "What are you _doing_?" she demanded, gaining the attention of quite a few of those walking the corridor, one of those including a certain Mr DuGrey.

Malachi just took a short step back, brown eyes confused momentarily, before narrowing a little. "Perhaps I didn't understand yesterday," he explained; one brow quirking up suggestively for the crowd, before he moved forward and slipped an arm around her shoulders. When she tensed, his arm tightened so she could barely move, and by placing a kiss at her temple he was able to whisper 'we _really_ need to talk' in her ear.

Relaxing against him, Rory allowed a small smile to slip across her lips, and nodding, allowed him to lead her away.

------

It was in the solitude of the empty classroom that Rory allowed her temper to get the better of her, throwing Malachi's arm from her shoulders roughly, and taking a few steps back. "What the _hell_ are you doing?"

Malachi's eyes narrowed at her anger and the accusation in her voice. "I'm doing what you told me to do. Make Tristan jealous. It's working you know, or didn't you see his face?"

"That was _yesterday_!" she yelled at him, her blue eyes flashing angrily. "And I don't want to _do_ this anymore!"

Now Malachi's eyes were flashing angrily, and Rory had to admit that he cut a pretty intimidating figure when he was angry. "Why the hell not?"

Rory sighed, forcing herself to take a breath and calm down. "Yes, it's making Tristan jealous, but it's never going to win him over. Nothing against you, Malachi, but you're really not my type."

"And Tristan is?"

Rory hesitated. "No. Not generally, but in this case, yes."

"So what happens now? I get the royal flush, and Tristan ends up with the girl?"

"No one's getting the royal flush!" she snapped back, her anger returning once again to her eyes and voice. "This was always how it was going to end up, Malachi. That was the plan. Me with Tristan, you with Paris."

Malachi's eyes narrowed even further, and Rory took a step back in surprise at the almost malicious amusement she read so easily in those eyes. "I don't want Paris. I _never_ wanted Paris."

"What?" The comment took Rory completely by surprise. "But you said…"

"When you offered me a chance to make that _bastard_ jealous, I figured, 'Hey. Why not?' So I took it."

"But then why…"

He smiled – an insanely attractive smile despite how much it made her heart flip uncomfortably with concern – cunningly at her, an almost evil amusement shining in his eyes. "Because you, Miss Gilmore," and he took a few steps towards her, almost like a wolf stalking its prey, and Rory found herself backing hastily away towards the door. "Wouldn't have agreed if I'd told you the truth."

Rory felt her heart thrumming madly in fear as he approached, also feeling her back hit the hard wood of the closed door; her hand reaching for the handle. "Which is?" she asked breathlessly, her voice shaking as he took yet another step towards her, so close now that she could almost feel the warmth of his body.

"I think you know," he answered as her hand hit the door handle.

Moving quickly, Rory turned the handle, but didn't get further than that when Malachi almost pounced, grasping her hand tightly by the wrist and wrenching it sharply away from the handle of the door.

Gasping in both pain and fear, Rory felt her wrist twisted almost mercilessly, and crying out in pain, she struggled to free herself, but Malachi was stronger. Catching her around the waist – as he had in the halls, but without the playful approach – Malachi threw her almost roughly against the wall. A sharp gasp of pain was expelled roughly from her lips as her back slammed sharply into the wooden panelled walls, her legs buckling beneath her. Still, even as she was about to collapse to the floor, Malachi caught her and threw her back up against the wall, his light brown eyes sparkling with evil amusement as his body moved to pin hers.

"Let me go!" she yelled at him, struggling against him, hitting out at anything she could reach, and only feeling him tighten his hold on her, pressing his body closer to hers until she could barely move at all.

A soft sob escaped from her lips just before his descended to hers; his kiss bruising and harsh, taking and not giving, and when she fought him, his kiss became fiercer, teeth joining the game, and Rory soon felt the sharp tang of blood on her lips.

Pushing at him, trying to force him away, she realised as she had yesterday that her strength was no match for his, and another sob broke from her now bleeding lips as she turned her face away from his – all she could do against him.

He chuckled almost malevolently at that small show of resistance, one of his hands sliding from her waist down over her hip to her thigh, and then back up under her skirt.

"_No_!" Rory screamed, finding new strength from somewhere. "Get _off_ me!"

Struggling fiercely, Rory cried out again in a loud yell, screaming and thrashing about, her nails clawing at his face, neck and just about any other part of him she could reach. Kicking and screaming, she felt him pull her sharply from the wall, but even as she struggled to break free, she felt herself lose all balance as she was thrown roughly to the floor.

It was seconds later that Malachi had found her again, straddling her hips, his longer hair hanging loosely around his face as he looked down at her, an almost animal snarl twisting his lips. He wasted no time in pinning her wrists to the ground above her head with one hand, and no matter how she struggled she couldn't get free.

"_Help_!" she screamed, raising her voice to an almost insane pitch, and she was dealt a hard blow across her cheek for her efforts, tears of pain rising quickly to her eyes, her teeth biting accidentally into the lining of her mouth and tasting once more the metallic tang of her own blood. "Please…" and that word was no more than a sob as she heard Malachi chuckle maliciously above her as his lips descended fiercely on her neck.

She was sobbing freely now, struggling as best she could against him, screaming and pleading for him to release her, but with her hands pinned to the floor there was very little that she could do.

"Malachi!" she yelled when his hand once again determined to slip under her skirt, the feeling of his hand on her skin making bile rise quickly in her throat. "No! Get _off_!" Oh god! How could this be happening? How could he–

All thoughts disappeared instantly from her mind when the door was thrown open with a loud bang, and Rory's big blue eyes found those of the unexpected visitor; perhaps the most welcome sight she had seen in her entire life. Somehow she had known it would be him; known he would be the one to rescue her.

"_Tristan_!" she sobbed loudly, her voice – filled with panic – catching in her throat the sight of him.

Tristan, his dark blue eyes burning with an anger she had never seen before, covered the small distance between them, and before Malachi could manage more than a brief surprise, kicked the older boy sharply in the ribs, throwing him from Rory's pinned body.

------

Rory sat with her back to the wall and her knees pulled right up to her chest; her whole body shuddering at the memories of all that had occurred, Tristan's comforting arm around her shoulders all that kept her from bursting into tears all over again as he rocked her gently back and forwards.

She hadn't spoken a word since he had come to her rescue. A quick fight had ensued and perhaps it was Tristan's fury alone that had won out against the older, larger boy; a fury that had been seen more than easily in his blue eyes. Malachi had disappeared after that, and hadn't come back. Rory was glad of it.

"You probably think I'm pretty stupid now, huh?" Rory spoke suddenly, and Tristan's dark blue eyes turned in surprise to meet hers.

It was true that he should be surprised. She had not been expecting to say anything. All she had wanted to do was sit here a while longer until she felt like she could stand again – her legs still felt weak and shaky – and then get the hell out of this room.

When Tristan didn't reply to her words, remaining silent and watching her carefully, she laughed bitterly. "I am, really," she explained quietly. "I was so _stupid_!"

Tristan took a deep breath, as though about to speak, before allowing it all to escape as he exhaled heavily. Then taking another breath, he spoke. "You're not stupid, Rory."

"No?" she asked; the disbelief in her voice considerable.

"No," he agreed decisively, nodding as though to prove his point. "_No one_ could have predicted that side of Malachi. No one's mentioned it before; no one had any clue at all. Who knows how many other girls have had to go through what you did."

"I never liked Malachi."

The words slipped from her lips before she could rethink them, and Tristan's dark blue eyes came to meet hers once again. "Your actions previous to this occurrence would convince just about _anyone_ otherwise."

Rory just nodded, wondering just how she could explain her way out of this one without sounding ridiculous. "I don't mean that I hated him from the start," she explained with a shrug. "He seemed like a nice enough guy. I just… Never _liked_ him."

Tristan's brow merely slipped to his forehead, and his expression quite clearly told the young woman seated beside him that he didn't believe her. Rory hesitated, wondering if she should explain, or just leave things as they were and save herself the embarrassment.

"I broke up with Dean."

"Again?"

His response was quick, short, and gave no quarter. He didn't want to hear it, she knew, and she felt fresh tears sting her eyes before she blinked them away. This was her own fault. She would deal with it as best she could. She would not, however, tell him why–

"I was trying to make you jealous," she heard herself explain, and Tristan sighed, shaking his head slightly as he removed his arm from around her shoulders. She felt it's loss keenly, but said nothing as he rose to his feet; not even moving from her position on the floor.

"With Dean or Malachi?" he asked sharply, shaking his head in almost annoyed despair, before his voice assumed a quiet, almost subdued tone. "Honestly, Rory. I'm done. I don't want any part of this. Not anymore. Just…" and he paused, his blue eyes almost pained as they found hers; his answer barely audible. "Just stay away from me."

And so saying he turned and left her there. Rory felt tears sting her eyes again, falling softly down her cheeks as her arms tightened around her knees. Dropping her face to her arms, Rory allowed her tears – for both what had happened with Malachi, and then Tristan's words – to claim her, knowing all the while that she had no one to blame but herself.


	11. Back To Normal? Almost

**Author's Note: **Sorry guys for the long wait. Things have been hectic here, and I've not really had a lot of time to get any writing done! Still, I thought of you all and decided to make some time, and so here we are. The next chapter!

* * *

Rory felt the many eyes resting on her as she walked down the long hallway towards her classroom. The rest of last week had been a long one, despite it only being one day, and the weekend had seemed to disappear in only seconds. Now Monday again, Rory didn't know what she was supposed to do about this situation at school. 

The reaction of the school to Malachi's expulsion and pending criminal investigation was more than a little inconsistent. While some amongst the population of girls in the school who had once desired and failed to receive the attention of the young man followed Rory with dark glares, there were others who thanked their lucky stars they had escaped from such a guy's intentions. Rory was considered with mixed feelings these days, but no one wanted to talk to her. No one except Paris, it seemed, who she couldn't even begin to figure out a way to get rid of.

Still, despite her infinite lack of interest into the happenings of the student body in reaction to this discovery about Malachi's true character, and just how this was helping Tristan's popularity, Rory had to admit that she actually liked the company. It was someone to talk to after all, and it was better than being all alone.

"So I heard you and Tristan had a thing," Paris spoke suddenly, the airy tone of her voice Rory's first warning that this was not going to be a pleasant conversation.

"For a bit."

"A bit?"

"Not really longer than a day, in all honesty."

Paris turned her head to study the young woman she walked with for a moment, before nodding and looking away. "One of those random make out sessions Tristan likes so much, huh? I thought you didn't go for that sort of thing."

"I don't."

Paris frowned. "Then why…"

"He wanted more. He wanted us to get together, or something like that."

"And because you don't like random hook ups, you told him to go to hell with the serious relationship. Rory. You're making no sense."

"Tristan doesn't _do_ serious," Rory explained, shrugging briefly. "I figured I'd save myself the trouble of finding that out later."

"Uh… Actually Tristan _does_ do serious," Paris explained pointedly. "Honestly. He's not half so judgmental as you sometimes."

"Huh?"

"You're assuming that Tristan's a player because of all the girls who're constantly after him."

"Well isn't he?"

Paris paused a moment, her hesitation giving Rory all the reassurance that she was right in her assumptions before Paris actually spoke. "Sure, sometimes he is. But if you remember, it was Summer who broke up with him."

Rory thought back, realising with a start that Paris was right. Tristan hadn't been the one who'd chosen to end that relationship. In all reality, he had actually been the one attempting to save it from its sorry fate. He'd failed, but at least he'd tried.

"Just because he's done serious once, doesn't mean he's likely to do it again."

"Not with you anyway."

Rory started, hurt by the short comment, and the smug smile that lifted Paris' lips. "What?"

"Whatever you did to him, the guy really wants nothing more to do with you."

Rory frowned. "How do you know that?"

Paris just shrugged. "Well he told me, didn't he?"

Rory looked surprised, but nodded. "Okay. So what did he say?"

Paris shrugged again, her eyes studying Rory's face for any sign of what she might be feeling about this whole thing. "Just that he didn't want to talk about anything to do with you."

Rory thought this through for a moment, not allowing any of her emotions to cross her eyes or touch her face. The last thing that she needed Paris to know was that she was actually _interested_ in the young man – as crazy as being interested in Tristan DuGrey was, she couldn't seem to help it. After all, she was quite certain that Paris still liked Tristan more than a little, and if the young woman were to discover that Rory liked him a good deal more than she let on, Rory knew she might lose the one friend she seemed to have left in this school.

"Apparently I've been coming on a little… hot and cold?" she offered with a bit of a shrug, and Paris' eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion.

"How's that?"

Rory shrugged helplessly, desperately trying to cover her embarrassment and suppress the flush that wanted to rise to her cheeks at the thought of just how hot she had been for Tristan that day that seemed just about forever ago. "We were just friends."

Paris thought this through for a moment, before nodding her acceptance and seeming to shrug the whole thing off. "Yeah. The guy does have a bit of an ego," she admitted with a shrug. "One smile or friendly remark, and automatically you must adore him."

"But don't you…"

"No."

Rory frowned. "But I thought…"

"Oh come on, Rory. The guy's hot. Even _you_ have to admit that, right?" and when Rory nodded, Paris just shrugged again. "And I more than likely wouldn't mind so much if the guy asked me out, but he's not really the sort I'd generally go after, yeah?"

"So you're not interested? Not even a little?"

Paris just shook her head and remained silent.

"But if, say, Louise decided to hook up with him, you wouldn't have a problem?"

Paris' eyes narrowed once again in suspicion at Rory's question, but then shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. Look… Where is this going?"

"I…" and Rory shook her head slowly in an attempt to pass the whole thing off as nothing. "I just… I was curious."

"You like him don't you?" she demanded to know, and Rory sighed softly.

"Sometimes."

"So the guy rescues you from a near rape attempt by his biggest rival, you blow him off, and _then_ decide that you like him?" her voice was a little edgy, but Rory was encouraged by the fact that so far the other young woman hadn't hit her.

"It was before that. Week before last. Monday night."

Paris frowned, brown eyes darkening a little in anger and jealousy, but otherwise she kept her head. "Tristan mentioned Monday too. What happened?"

Rory just shook her head. "It's not important. But that was when I first realised I liked him," she explained with a shrug. "But it was just… It's not right. Tristan and me. We're too different."

Paris snorted. "You mean you think you're too good for someone like him?"

"What?" Rory asked, surprised. "No! I don't think―"

"Yeah you do, Rory. You think you're better than us because your mother's not wealthy. You think the rest of us are upper class snobs who've never had to want for anything. Although generally you're right, that doesn't make us bad people."

"I know that! I―"

"And whatever you think, Tristan isn't a bad guy."

Rory shook her head then, smiling wryly to herself. "Yeah. But Tristan's not about to talk to me again for a while," she explained with a brief shrug. "I've turned him down too many times, and he just doesn't want anymore to do with me."

Paris just pursed her lips, and Rory automatically knew that the girl still liked Tristan. It was obvious in the way that she seemed almost standoffish at the direction this conversation was going. "So _he's_ not into _you_ anymore, and _you_ don't think you guys are _meant_ to be together… Well I suppose that's that then, right?"

Rory just nodded silently, not really wanting to agree with her, but knowing too that there was very little that she could do about it. Tristan really wanted nothing more to do with her, and so she really had no choice but to stay away. She'd eventually get over it, she imagined, and learn to believe that she was better off. She noticed that Paris seemed to read this listlessness in her eyes, and so spoke her answer.

"Right."

------

Rory had to admit that she wasn't too fond of Paris' company, especially now that the girl knew that something had happened between Rory and Tristan and seemed hell bent on discovering what that something was. Still, the girl was one of the only people around this place who still wanted to talk to her, so Rory took what she could get. Not that it would matter if Paris decided she wasn't worth the time. Then she could go back to being friendless again, and things would be back to normal for her. After all, she didn't need friends here, right? She asked herself. She had friends, family and a whole different _life_ in Stars Hollow. What did it matter if she chose not to have one here?

Pushing her way through the door of the library, her eyes swept briefly across the students who inhabited the main lounge area; searching for anyone she might know. When she discovered no one, she began making her way deeper into the vast room.

She had always liked the library at Chilton. The large room was like nothing she could find in Stars Hollow, and this place had become her escape from the awful reality that was her time here at this school. Not that she didn't like it. School itself was fine, and she enjoyed the idea that she was getting the best education available to her, and that this might be just what she needed to get into Harvard and study journalism as her heart had been set on for years.

Still, despite this, she did enjoy her escapes into the library; the silence and the impartiality that the library offered her. No one came in here; none of her tormentors and none of those she occasionally called friends did at least, and the only people she generally came into contact with were those of a like mind; those who enjoyed the peace and solitude this room offered.

Pulling the small scrap of paper from her jacket pocket, her eyes scanned the title of the book she searched for, before moving to scan the labels on the sides of the shelves. Granted, she already knew where she was going, but it was habit by now to read those signs that directed one to the correct aisle. Allowing her mind to drift into the welcome thoughts of the library, she forgot all her problems and concerns as she turned down her aisle. When she looked up however, blue eyes drifting down the aisle, her problems and concerns came rushing back with full force.

There stood Tristan, in all of his blonde-haired, blue eyed glory. His lips were fused to those of a girl she recognised from her algebra class – not the brightest of girls either, her mind offered, wasting a stray thought – his hands exploring the young woman's back beneath her school shirt.

Rory's first impulse was to cry and hurry off, the feelings of hurt and betrayal that rushed through her immediate and unavoidable. Still, she had been brought up to be far more resilient under such pressure, and she didn't allow this emotion too long a moment in her mind. Instead, anger rose up to swallow her; irrational anger that she knew had no place in her mind, and yet she couldn't seem to help. It wasn't that she was angry about his attentions towards this other girl, she thought to herself, frozen but unnoticed at the end of the aisle, although she would admit that she was certainly a little jealous. It was more that he seemed, after insisting that he wanted something serious, to go back to his general reputation of a player, because that had to be what this was. Why else would he be making out with her in the back of the library, unless…

Unless he'd _wanted_ Rory to find him!

God! What a total _ass_! She thought to herself, eyes narrowing only momentarily, before she threw that thought from her head, and continued down the aisle towards her much needed book. Walking straight past them as though she hadn't seen them at all – although she did notice them break apart suddenly – she moved to the shelf where her book was located, her eyes searching for its location.

Placing her books on the shelf below, she attempted to locate the somewhat elusive textbook – she suspected this had something to do with a certain preoccupation of her mind – while at the same time, she did her best to ignore the couple standing only a few metres away. She heard Tristan say _something_, of course, but she completely ignored him, and his words slipped elusively away, even as her subconscious mind attempted to grasp his meaning.

It was when she finally located the book she needed that she heard a sharp smack – obviously his random hook up had not liked what he'd said to another girl – before the girl he'd been with left them alone in the empty aisle of the library.

As she turned to go, she stopped dead when she found Tristan blocking her path, his dark blue eyes studying her seriously, a slight frown turning down his lips. Refusing to allow his suddenly oppressive presence to get to her, Rory took a deep breath, her brows rising to her forehead in question. "Can I _help_ you?"

She saw his brows twitch slightly together at her words as though he hadn't expected her to speak at all. Then he shook his head slowly, still continuing to study her with that unnervingly steady gaze.

"Then _excuse_ me. You mind getting out of my way?"

When Tristan shrugged briefly, Rory felt her anger rise exponentially, eyes narrowing as he spoke.

"It's a free world. This isn't _your_ library, after all. It's Chilton's."

"And as you're the king, that means you own it?"

He just shrugged, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Maybe."

"Move Tristan."

"No."

Rory, glaring at him darkly, took a breath, before stepping towards him, placing a hand flat on his chest and pushing him roughly to one side. Storming past him, she glared briefly back to see him leaning oh-so-casually against the shelving, watching her with an amused smirk.

What an ass.

------

"Hey Rory!"

Rory turned at the very familiar voice, blue eyes searching for the tall figure of the young man she had so believed herself in love with. Dean had been everything that she had wanted when she was younger, and at the beginning of this year, she had to admit that she had been more than willing to give up her schooling at Chilton to stay in Stars Hollow High and be with him. She realised all too well now what a stupid plan that would have been.

_Still_, her mind piped up. _At least you'd never have met Tristan, right?_

"Hey Dean. What's up?"

"I just…" and his eyes dropped to his shoes for a moment as he reached her, walking by her side down Star's Hollow's main street. "I wanted to see how you were."

Rory just shrugged momentarily. "Doing okay. It wasn't such a big deal."

Dean's brows rose on his forehead to say just how little he believed that, but saw the wisdom in remaining silent.

"Good to hear."

It was awkward with the two of them now, after this second break up in so short a period of time. It had been quite obvious to Rory that breaking up was what needed to be done; her feelings with Dean would never rival those that Tristan had so easily evoked within her. Still, she wasn't an idiot. Things with Tristan were pretty much screwed and pointless to boot. The guy was morally oblivious and more than likely, those feelings he'd aroused had been only a product of his experience and her lack thereof. Things with Dean had been awkward. She didn't know whether this was because their's had been a relationship based mostly on friendship, or whether Dean had few experiences in that past that could have prepared him for it. Perhaps it had only to do with the previous innocence in their relationship. Making a step that big was a _huge_ decision, and one couldn't move past it lightly.

Still, despite all this, she knew she couldn't get back together with him; knew that in the end, although there was some chemistry, there was just not enough of it on her part. She just didn't like him as much as she had so long thought she had.

"So… What're you up to?"

Rory just shrugged. "I was just going to go to the bridge and read."

Dean just nodded slowly, as though thinking this through. "You want some company?"

Rory smiled brightly, her blue eyes shining. "If you like. Sure."

------

Tristan didn't really know what he was doing there. He didn't know why he had come to deliver the textbooks she'd left behind in the library that day. He could have easily waited until the next morning at school and returned it then. He could even have left them there considering he'd told her he wanted her to stay away from him. It wasn't his problem that she'd left them behind, and she'd obviously not noticed their absence – or if she had, didn't really care – so what the hell was he doing here.

_Seeing her_, that stupid little voice he really began hating whispered into his mind.

It was true, he knew. He was here only to see Rory; to talk to her, even if all they did was that constant fighting they'd communicated through since they'd first met. He was addicted to that girl, and couldn't get enough of her, despite all that she had done to him; despite his pride.

The revelation of Malachi's true personality, and being witness to that same personality, had been a bit of a shock to Tristan; he'd really not suspected anything of the kind from the guy. He'd seemed like a relatively good guy, despite his whole 'player' status – although he did that sort of thing too, so he couldn't judge there – but a rapist had not even crossed his mind. He'd been blown away by how many young women had stepped forward when questioned about whether they'd received such attention from the young woman, and perhaps it was this that had begun his mind's almost inevitable forgiveness of its most common occupant.

That or the fact that now he knew that nothing had happened with the two of them; that it had all just been a game to make him jealous – he had to smile at that. Some elaborate ploy that Rory had cooked up, not thinking for a moment that her co-conspirator might be a bad guy. She had a habit of trusting just about anyone around her. He however, had never seemed to make the cut, and he could well imagine why.

It had begun when he'd first seen her; this big blue eyes drawing him in and capturing his attention more than he might have cared to admit at the time. Still, over time he had come to accept his interest in the young woman, and had been more than a little thrilled when it seemed that she returned that sentiment that Monday night that now seemed almost an eternity before.

Still, however much he had liked her in the beginning, it had not been enough for her, and Rory had been more than condescending towards his attentions. Granted, at first they had been the cockily arrogant attentions of the school's resident playboy, and despite his plans for something between them changing quite a bit since that time, his attitude hadn't, and he'd alienated that young woman he so cared about. She didn't trust him, and he wasn't sure if she ever would.

He paused a moment in his walk through the town, wondering where the hell Rory could be at this time of the day. It was almost evening, and so he should probably try her house, but seeing as Lorelai more than likely would _also_ be home, he wasn't so keen on heading there. Instead, he turned down a heavily treed lane, his eyes sweeping the fading sunlight that dappled the path and the beginnings of a wooden bridge in the distance.

It was then that he heard voices that made him stop dead in his tracks, one so agonisingly familiar that he felt his stomach flip at the sound of it. The other made that feeling disappear instantly, a low chuckle and a few spoken words from a voice that was perhaps not _quite_ as familiar, but still incredibly well known; Dean.

"No. The guy's an ass," Rory's quite voice insisted, and he heard Dean chuckle again.

"Took you long enough."

There was a long pause as Rory obviously thought about Dean's words, and she shrugged. "Yeah. It really did. Still, there was something there that I though might be worth the time getting to know him."

"You were wrong?"

Rory laughed softly, nodding, and Tristan felt his stomach twist at the words that followed. "More than a little. Like I said. The guy's an ass."


	12. Thanks, But You're An Ass

**Author's Note:** Sorry about the long wait for this one, guys! Things have been relatively hectic around here recently, and don't seem to want to let up. Couple that up with the fact that this is the second last chapter, and that puts the pressure on a great deal. But thanks for waiting patiently and not giving me grief about it! nods

So anyway… I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you've liked the others. Thanks for all your reviews and comments, and I'll try get the last chapter to you soon!

Thanks again, guys, and enjoy!

* * *

Tristan just stood where he was, frozen by those words he knew were in reference to him. She would never speak so cavalierly about Malachi, for that guy had hurt her in an infinitely more dangerous way than he ever had. His betrayal of her was more of the emotional sort; more than the physical, and besides. Her words fit right into what he had believed her opinion of him was. 

Sure enough, Dean confirmed his guess.

"Still… the guy saved you from that Malachi guy. You have to give him some credit."

Rory laughed at Dean's suggestion, and Tristan strongly debated heading back to his car and getting back to Hartford as quickly as he could. That way, he might potentially save himself from some of the hurt he was likely to feel if he continued to eavesdrop on this conversation he shouldn't have been listening to in the first place.

"I suppose so, huh?" Rory replied thoughtfully. "So really, really, _really_ deep down, the guy's a good guy… Wow. How very reassuring."

There was a long pause, and Tristan had turned to go, almost out of hearing range – walking near-silently so the two wouldn't hear him – when Dean spoke.

"So you're definitely over him then?"

Tristan froze, unable to continue. He knew more than anything that he still liked Rory. Something about her had him hooked, and despite how many times she had turned him down in recent times, he knew those feelings would never go. Rory was everything that he had ever wanted, despite him not realising this fact until recently, and he didn't think he would ever get over her.

And so he stood there – frozen – waiting with bated breath for her answer, regulating his breathing so they'd have no chance of hearing him, his ears straining for any sound of movement or anything that might suggest they'd soon be coming this way. He listened too for Rory's answer, and in that effort he was disappointed, because Rory did not reply. Instead, it was Dean who spoke.

"I see."

"Dean…"

"No, no. I get it. You and Tristan have this whole _thing_ between the two of you. There's something there that was never there with us. We're too…"

"Similar?"

Tristan heard Dean's light chuckle. "Hardly. I don't think anyone is similar to you, Rory Gilmore. You really are one of a kind." There was a pause, and Tristan could only imagine what the guy was doing at that point. Still, what he had heard lifted his spirits in a way that he had never hoped for when he'd come here. "I was going to say not ready… We're missing something."

"I know," Rory replied almost wistfully, and Tristan frowned at the tone of her voice. It was almost as though she wished she and Dean _did_ have this thing that they were missing. "But thanks, Dean. For understanding."

Another chuckle greeted Tristan's ears as he continued away. He would leave this confrontation for another day, for if Rory even _suspected_ that he'd overheard her conversation with Dean, things would be shot to hell pretty quickly. He had to play this one carefully. The last thing he heard was Dean's low voice, filled with almost playful amusement.

"Well it was that or do without the movie nights, and sorry, but I'm not about to give those up…"

------

Rory felt heartened by her long conversation with Dean. Things had never been so… _easy_ before. Never before had she been able to completely outline her feelings for Tristan with him before; sort everything out so that everyone knew where she stood on that front.

She knew of course, that there was still something there with Dean. Despite her coming to realise that he was only a friend to her; that they weren't destined to be more, she knew he still cared for her. She wasn't so sure that would ever change, because he was Dean, and he had pursued her before she was even worth pursuing. He had found her attractive in that ridiculously baggy white sweater she'd been wearing that day at school; he'd found her attractive first thing in the morning, dressed in her pyjamas with her hair all chaotic. Dean was just Dean, and he still hated hearing about her feelings for Tristan. Yet he knew how important it was for her to sort them all out, and so he allowed her to talk her way through them, just being there to listen. For that, Rory was incredibly grateful.

Dropping wearily to the couch in their home, she let out a long, fatigued sigh, resting her head against the backing and allowing her eyes to drift shut.

"No sleeping!" her mother announced as she walked into the room, clapping her hands and making even more noise and wake her daughter up.

"Mum!" Rory complained, pressing her palms to her ears in an attempt to drown out any noise that her mother made. "I'm sleepy."

"So then fill me in and get to bed."

Knowing that she had no choice than to do otherwise, Rory grumpily sat up, removing her feet from the couch when Lorelai moved to sit beside her.

"What?"

"Where were you all night.?"

"Talking to Dean. Is that it? Can I go to bed?" she asked in a cheerful voice, and she moved as though to rise from the couch.

"Not so quick, Missy. Tristan dropped your books off today."

Suddenly Rory found that she was incredibly awake, all feelings of fatigue disappearing from her head instantly, and she leaned back against the couch, her mind trying to sort out what Tristan's presence there could mean. "He what?"

"He was here. Dropped off your books."

"That's it? He just dropped off the books."

Lorelai shrugged. "Sure. What were you expecting?"

Rory just shook her head, feeling as though perhaps she were in some kind of daze. "Nothing, I suppose. I just can't believe he dropped them…" and her voice trailed off as her mind wandered back to why she had forgotten the books in the first place.

"Why not? He seems like a nice kid."

Rory snorted in disbelief, coming out of her daze to look at her mother as though perhaps she was crazy. "Nice? Tristan's not nice."

"I remember the police saying he was the one who came to your rescue with Malachi."

Rory frowned at her mother, shaking her head. "Doesn't mean that he was nice about it."

Lorelai just shrugged. "Nice or not, that _does_ however, make him your prince charming; your knight in shining armour, if you will."

Rory just frowned and was about to say something further, when her mother rode over her. "Whatever he's done to you, and however much you guys don't get alone at the moment, I think he deserves at least a thankyou, don't you?"

------

The last place Rory had ever wanted to be was where she was standing at precisely this second. The house was huge; enormous even, and more than a little intimidating. Still, it wasn't as though backing down were an option, because her mother waited patiently in the car at the end of the driveway, parked on the street 'in case someone needed to get out'. More than likely, she didn't want to be seen by the owners of this grand and ultimately ridiculous house.

As far as Rory knew, Tristan didn't have any siblings, so in this grand house, it was just him and his parents to fill what had to be almost a castle. A ridiculous waste of space, it was just the kind of house she had been expecting from a guy like Tristan, if a little bigger than even _her_ mind could have comprehended.

Swallowing rapidly, she lifted her hand to touch the button that would announce her presence to the household, freezing once again at she allowed herself to contemplate for a moment what she should expect as a reaction from whomever it was who might come to answer the door.

His parents, she could only imagine what they would say to her when they next saw her. Unsure really as to the kind of people they were, she knew she might just have to expect something like a cold or disapproving look, but such wouldn't bother her at all really, she knew. After all, their son was just as much at fault; a little more if she really thought about it. After all, it had been him who had instigated the kiss in the first place, and she had never done anything like that before…

She shook those thoughts out of her head when she felt her stomach begin to ache for that again. The last thing she needed right now was to hook up with Tristan again. Sure. He was hot, witty, more than a little challenging to spend time with, always kept her on her toes, but at the same time, seemed so very attached to his player status. She wasn't sure he really could last in a steady relationship, and as much as believed he might want to try, she wasn't willing to risk her own heart to give him that chance.

Realising that by delaying the inevitable she was only hurting herself more, she took a deep breath, and pressed the doorbell.

For a long moment after those lovely chimes – she would admit they were lovely, though they didn't help to calm her nerves – echoed through the large expanse of the house, nothing actually happened. There was utter silence inside, as far as she could tell, and with a sudden burst of relief she realised that no one was home.

That burst of relief quickly drained away when she heard movement within the house, but telling herself that it was the butler – for why would Tristan answer the door when he obviously had a butler, right – helped her calm down a little. Then the door was yanked open and her heart fell again.

It _was_ the butler.

Why that disappointed her, she didn't know. For some reason, she had been hoping he would open it; that he would yank open that door and just stare at her in purest surprise and confusion, wondering just why the hell she was there. She had almost been expecting it, with all the crazy coincidences she'd been experiencing the past few days…

"Miss," the butler greeted her with a short nod that might have passed as a bow had any other part of his body moved at all. As it was, he was obviously not particularly pleased to see her for whatever reason. Maybe because she was unexpected.

"I'm sorry. Is Tristan here?" she asked politely, and the man, obviously not used to such from guests just watched her as though this might be some sort of trick, before stepping aside and beckoning her inside.

"If you would just wait here, Miss…" and his voice trailed off as he searched for her name.

"Gilmore," she offered. "Rory Gilmore."

Rory didn't miss the barely perceptible way the man's eyebrows rose when he heard her name, and wondered what had been said about her to cause such a reaction. Was it that Tristan spoke of her? Was it that his parents really disliked her? What was that reaction telling her?

She attempted to banish speculation from her head as Tristan's butler disappeared into the house, for she knew better than anyone that she would never know the answer without asking the man, and both knew she wasn't about to do that. If she allowed herself to dwell on it, the whole thing would only torture her until she drove herself almost crazy.

The idea that Tristan was here, somewhere in this enormous house, was making her head all fuzzy, and…

"What are you doing here?"

There he was. Standing in the archway that led to deeper parts of the house, his hands stuffed in his pockets as his blue eyes held hers with all that cocky confidence he seemed to possess every day of the year. Something about him; his stance, the way he watched her; his entire attitude… She wasn't sure what it was, but it set her immediately on edge.

"Why the _hell_ did you tell my mother I didn't say thanks?" she snapped, knowing that it was only his presence and the fact that she found him insufferably attractive standing there with a smirk beginning to tug at his lips that made her act this way.

"Because you didn't."

"You didn't need to _tell_ her that."

He just shrugged, the smirk now fully realised on his lips, tugging his mouth into an expression that made butterflies suddenly come to life, fluttering almost sickeningly around her stomach.

"She asked."

"She asked?" she repeated, her tone filled with disbelief. "I seriously doubt that."

"She thanked me," he answered with a shrug. "She actually sounded as though she appreciated my stepping in."

Now Rory found herself on the defensive, for she hadn't – least of all at the time – wanted to sound ungrateful. Him appearing when he did had meant the entire world to her, and the fact that she apparently hadn't even thought to thank him for what he'd done bothered her.

"I _appreciated_ you stepping in!" she snapped, the words coming out harsher than she'd been planning, but fitting in with her mood and the irritation he made her feel with that confident smirk on his face, as though he knew something that she didn't.

"Well you haven't exactly said thanks yet, have you?" he asked, one brow sliding smoothly to that tanned forehead, and she felt those butterflies dancing happily in her stomach at the effect that expression had on his already handsome face.

"Thankyou, Tristan, for rescuing from your crazy rapist friend!" she shot at him, her voice sounding anything but thankful, but her attitude apparently not phasing Tristan in the slightest.

"You're welcome, and he's not my friend."

"Why? Cause you found out he was a crazy rapist?"

"Because he was my competition."

"Huh?"

"At school."

"But you're the King of Chilton."

"Only just," he explained with a bit of a shrug. "Malachi was the one guy who might have taken that title from me. Thanks to your stupidity, that is no longer a problem."

"_Excuse_ me?" Rory demanded, fists clenching by her sides as she struggling with the urge not to fly at him and slap him hard, before running off in tears. She wasn't used to dealing with things like this, and Tristan seemed more than up to his usual standard of annoying playboy.

"You heard me, Mary."

"_Don't_ call me Mary," she snapped fiercely, her blue eyes flashing dangerously.

"Why? Because you were trying to prove that you weren't?" he asked, brows rising to his forehead in disbelief. "Who're you trying to kid, Miss Gilmore. You're as innocent as they come."

She sneered at him. "Well both you _and_ Malachi almost took care of that. Good to know you have something in common!"

For a moment, she was sure his mask of cocky arrogance was about to falter, but his smile merely deepened at her words, and he chuckled. Finally she realised her mistake. Everything else was a mask with him. This cocky arrogance… This was really him.

"Well I never said we were completely different. There had to be something similar, otherwise I imagine we'd have probably been better friends than rivals, yeah?"

She just stared at him in disbelief for a moment that he would even consider comparing himself to a guy who was more than likely about to be convicted on several charges of rape.

"You really are the utter limit!" she snapped, snatching up her bag from where she had put it on one of the soft couches, before moving to storm past him.

At the last minute however, he stepped into her path to the door, and she had to stop suddenly or crash into him. As the last thing she needed was to feel that proximity again, she hurriedly took a few steps back into the room.

"What?" she snapped, her eyes burning fiercely.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" he asked, brows rising to his forehead in question; that cocky smirk twisting his lips. "Surely you didn't drive all the way out here to tell me what a jerk I am for telling your mother you didn't say thanks."

"Well you are."

"Well what was I supposed to say?" he asked, shrugging as though the whole thing meant so little to him. She hated that careless attitude, for this whole situation was far from such for her, and every moment in his company tortured her to a point where she just wanted a hole to open under her feet and swallow her whole. "You never said thanks. She told me she was sure you were very grateful. I just shrugged. Said I wouldn't know."

"Effectively telling her I never said thanks."

"Well you didn't."

"I would have thought it was obvious. I presumed you didn't need to hear it."

"You presumed wrong," he shot back easily, his eyes sparkling with amusement while hers flashed furiously.

"Thankyou," she snapped, biting off the word, her hands clenched into fists at her side.

"You're more than welcome. Anytime you need rescuing from your bad judgement, just give me a call."

Her eyes narrowing in disgust at his words, she shook her head, opening her mouth as though to say something, before shaking her head and storming past him angrily. At the door, she turned back to face him, hating the way that he could rile her up so easily, feeling her anger swell exponentially when she saw him leaning casually against the archway.

Shaking her head in disgust, her whole body tensed, her eyes flashing with fury, she finally found the words she wanted. "God, you're such an _ass_!" she spoke fiercely, before she turned back and disappeared out the door without another word.


	13. It'll Never Work

**Author's Note: **Hey guys! Dude… I'm so sorry I've left you guys all hanging so long for this last chapter. It was really evil of me, and I beg your forgiveness! My excuse… I moved out of home, and have been transporting, unpacking, and rearranging everything in my new place… sorting things out and such, so yeah… Once more I apologise, and ask you to understand that it was entirely a matter of absolutely no time!

Sorry again for the wait, but I hope you guys enjoy this one! Yes… The last and final chapter is finally here!

* * *

Rory stormed past him with a no less than dangerous glare, reminding Tristan once again that he had the biggest mouth and worst judgement possible in the history of the entire world. Napoleon's disaster at Waterloo considered a terribly good idea when compared to those situations his big mouth ended up getting him into. What it was about Rory Gilmore that so flustered him, he never knew, but her showing up at his house had completely thrown him for a loop, and the only thing he'd been able to think of doing was fall back on his usually cocky self. _That_ hadn't turned out so well, and things were back to where they'd started. 

She loathed him.

Not that he wasn't used to it of course. Rory disliking him had become a pretty regular part of his life from that first moment they had met. Even then, she thought she'd had him all figured out – and to be honest, at the time she had been pretty damn close. Still, over time, things had certainly changed. The fact that he was a player was still very much in effect. How was he supposed to survive at Chilton, after all, without that reputation that kept him securely in the position of the school's 'King'? But everything else about him; that mentality that he was better than others, the fact that any girl would do as long as she was gorgeous… All of it had changed, and now he found himself believing very strongly in two things.

First, Rory was the only girl for him.

Second, she was a better person than he would ever be… If a little naïve.

The whole situation with Malachi had somewhat settled down over the past few weeks since her visit to his house. The girls who had worshipped the young man had stopped shooting the girl daggers and resenting her for the removal from the school of a guy they'd _wanted_ to take advantage of them.

Stupid girls.

People seemed to be moving on, and Tristan was very much back into the role of school King; the young man every girl fell all over themselves for. Things were back to normal.

And normal was so very far from where Tristan wanted to be.

Rory had captured his attention; had captured, held, and refused to release it. She'd caught him hook, line and sinker, without even casting that rod. It was crazy how badly you could want someone who loathed and despised you with almost every fibre in their being. Not that she really did _hate_ him, of course. She just preferred not to spend any of her time in his company. None at all, and to tell the honest truth, he wasn't particularly surprised that she didn't. He _had_ been a bit of an ass that day at his house.

Still, it could have been worse. Things had merely reversed back to the point they had begun at. She made it very clear that she thought him exceptionally obnoxious, and that she couldn't stand to be around him, but it didn't seem to be any worse than when they'd first met. She couldn't stand him back then and things had changed. Maybe this time around it would be the same. Everyone deserved a second chance, right?

Or had he blown that one already? He couldn't remember.

------

Rory sighed as she turned the corner, pausing for a moment and resting against the wall, her head tilted back as she breathed air deeply into her lungs, her eyes closing as she attempted to calm her rapidly beating heart.

It was really stupid that he would have this kind of an effect on her. She had attempted – tried so _very_ hard – to get things back to where they had begun at. Things then, when she'd disliked him and he insisted still on tormenting her – at least some things never changed – had seemed a hell of a lot more simple. Still… Things would never be the same, for she was no longer dating Dean, which acted as a sort of buffer against Tristan's acknowledgeable good looks and seemingly endless amounts of charm. Not that he seemed to want to use those on her anymore. Still… she'd never doubted that things had been changed irrevocably. She just intended to get things close to normal once again.

Still, things wouldn't exactly go back to normal until she managed to control this racing heart and this flush that insisted on coming up every single time she walked past; every single time he would spare her a glance from those gorgeous dark blue eyes…

_God!_ What the _hell_ was she thinking?

Shaking her head in dismay at just how ridiculous she was being, she pushed away from the wall, took a deep breath, and turned back down the corridor from which she'd just come.

She stopped dead a few seconds later.

"Forgotten something?"

Damn it all, he was so bloody cocky, with that confident smile and those dark eyes, flashing so mischievously at her and making her heart…

_Get a grip!_

"Tristan," she acknowledged coldly, her blue eyes moving to capture his, keeping her gaze disinterested and somewhat annoyed, even as she felt her breathing becoming restricted.

"You've forgotten _me_?" he asked, surprise etching across his face, even as the mischievous sparkle in his eyes became more pronounced. "Now what an odd thing to say, Mary. What is it that I can do for you then?"

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance at his words, knowing that he purposely took them completely out of context again. "Why don't you leave me the hell alone?"

He just shrugged, a slow smile tugging at only one corner of his lips, and she felt something in her stomach flip suddenly at the expression on his face. Wow… She really had a problem, didn't she? Still… He was completely insufferable; perhaps it was better to focus on that.

"You came looking for me, Mary."

"I did not. And don't call me Mary."

"Well you said…"

"_I know what I fucking said!_" she screamed into the otherwise relatively quiet hallway. The effect of course, was immediate. People froze where they were, all eyes turning to look at the young woman none there had believed capable of uttering such. She was definitely a PG-13 rated young woman, and hardly one about to let loose with such a word.

Tristan for his part, couldn't believe it, and just stared at her in utter disbelief, his brows sliding to his forehead as he studied the flashing eyes and flushed cheeks of the young woman standing before him, her eyes narrowed dangerously and her hands clenched into fists.

"Okay…" he replied; hands up in a defensive gesture as another slow smile began to replace the surprise that had covered his face. "I get it… You weren't looking for me," he finally accepted, and Rory forced herself to relax. She knew she was overreacting to his presence and that more than likely she wasn't helping her situation. He was probably interpreting her reactions just how he wanted, and was more than likely feeling a little smug right now.

"Thankyou," she replied, her voice calm, composed, and completely disinterested, but Tristan's smile only widened. What the hell was he smiling about now, she wondered? He always seemed to be smiling, she thought to herself, hating that those stupid butterflies that seemed to live in her stomach came to life every single time that he did.

"You're welcome, of course," he replied graciously, bowing slightly from the waist in a way that only made her eyes narrow once more when she realised that he was teasing her yet again.

"I have to go."

"Really? You just got here."

One of her brows slid to her forehead at that. "_Here_ is not where I was going."

"So why did you stop?" he asked, another of those confident and far too cocky grins twisting his lips.

Sniffing with disdain, Rory adjusted her bag on her shoulder, before stepping around him and continuing off down the corridor; her cheeks flushed with what might have been anger had she not known herself better.

She remained completely unaware of the many eyes that followed her passage until she disappeared around a corner. It was then and only then that those same eyes sought out her antagonist, who with a bit of a shrug and a half smile, walked off in the opposite direction.

------

"Tristan!" a voice called through the steady bustle of people walking through the main shopping mall in Hartford, and the young man turned, searching out the owner of that voice. It soon became apparent who belonged to the voice when they called out again, waving at him as they made their way through the crowd. "Tristan," she repeated. "Hi."

"Hi, Miss Gilmore."

The look she shot at him for those words was nothing more than laughable, and he chuckled softly as she shook her head.

"Call me Lorelai," she insisted, her blue eyes finding his, that near-constant smile sparkling within them. It was certainly a change, he admitted to himself, from the woman he'd met that first time he'd gone to Rory – and Lorelai's, of course – home. Then she had been the protective mother, looking out for the happiness and wellbeing of her daughter and the young woman's adoring boyfriend. Now things had certainly changed. It seemed that her opinion of him had shot through the roof, and he didn't doubt that it had everything to do with the whole Malachi thing.

"Hi Lorelai," he offered with a bit of a shrug and a rueful grin. He had never found it exceptionally easy to talk to people like Lorelai. Sure, she was friendly enough, and he was confident enough for it not to have mattered, but she was also the mother of a girl he had taken quite an interest in, and with whom something had come so very _close_ to happening. It was more than a little awkward, considering she had made him very well aware of this fact the last time they'd met.

"So how've you been?"

The question was something he had not been expecting, but realised that he should have. After all, the situation was far from casual, and neither seemed to be able to think of anything to say. He hoped in future that Lorelai might choose to just avoid contact and pretend she hadn't seen him.

"Things are okay."

She just nodded at that, blue eyes suddenly studying him with that expression that made it seem as though she were staring through into his very soul. Tristan just _barely_ contained the cold shiver that threatened to sneak down his spine.

"Has she spoken to you yet?"

Tristan just stared at the woman in surprise. "Who?" he asked, knowing perfectly well who she meant, but far too busy struggling with his surprise over the question to think of much else to say.

"Who? My _daughter_ of course," came Lorelai's almost sarcastic reply, her slender eyebrows rising to her forehead. "Apparently you were a bit of an ass when she last spoke with you."

"And I was a bit of an ass today also, so nothing really changed," he explained with a casual, carefree shrug. No need to let Lorelai know he still had a thing for her daughter. It'd be better for him if she thought otherwise. Then perhaps it would be just that much easier to move past all this. He ignored of course, that obnoxious little voice in his head that spoke contrary to this.

"You know, if you were downright honest and truthful with her, you might just win her back. Rory's a pretty forgiving kid."

He snorted in disbelief at that, before hurriedly schooling his expression back into one of casual indifference. In the meantime, Lorelai's eyes had narrowed, and she shook her head in dismay at the young man.

"You give her a real chance, and you might just see a new side to her."

Tristan's eyes just narrowed then, shaking his head, dismissing that idea almost immediately. "I've given her _plenty_ of chances, and she's thrown every single one of them right back in my face. I'm not doing that again."

"Chances?" Lorelai asked, this time only one brow arching to her forehead at his comment. "Which ones were those? The one where you dragged her into a random classroom and kissed her _while_ she was dating Dean? Or how about when you told Dean about that kiss you two had at that party?" She paused a moment, giving him a significant look, before continuing. "Or perhaps the time you apologised for revealing that kiss _after_ she and her boyfriend broke up because of that? Maybe the time you pushed things a little far at her grandma's―"

"Hey!" he cut her off, his blue eyes narrowing suddenly in angry indignation. "That wasn't just me!"

"And you think Rory does things like that everyday? Aren't you the guy who's always calling her 'Mary', or am I mixing you up with some other guy she thinks is an arrogant jerk – not worth her time?"

Tristan fell silent almost immediately, and Lorelai nodded knowingly. "I thought so. Rory's a _good_ girl, and for some reason or another, she has a thing for you." Tristan looked back at her upon hearing this, hope dawning a little in those dark blue eyes. Lorelai however, destroyed it as she continued. "A thing which you've done _nothing_ to deserve, by the way. On top of all that other crap, you harassed her in a _huge_ way when she got back together with Dean. Played your cards right, and those two would have been broken up in a week anyway… And _then_, when she finally realises that you might actually be worthwhile, she sticks her neck on the line after that whole Malachi debacle, and you shoot her down. Or how about hanging around in the library, making out with some random girl where you _knew_ she'd find you? I very much doubt if she's going to automatically give you a second chance."

"I never said―"

"You want a second, third, fourth or fifth chance – whatever we're at right now – and don't even _try_ to tell me otherwise."

Tristan just fell into a moody silence, beginning to wish he'd just pretended not to hear this woman call out to him, and instead just moved on. "Look… I _don't_ have to listen to this, so I'm just going to―"

"Which is why I'm going to help you out."

"Huh?"

"At this point, I'm not sure you really deserve another chance with my daughter, but for some reason, she still has a thing for you, and won't be happy until you at least give the whole thing a shot."

Tristan just stared at the woman in unabashed amazement, confused as to why this woman wanted to help him. He was sure she'd heard things about him that she didn't like, and that might have had any other woman shipping her daughter off to another country. It seemed Rory's mother was just as crazy as she was. Go figure.

"But you―"

"Don't like you?" Lorelai suggested, cutting him off yet again, and when he nodded in frustration, she just shrugged. "I don't _not_ like you. You're an okay guy, Tristan. I just hate what you're doing to my daughter, jerking her around like you are, and I want you to sort this out once and for all. Either tell her that you like her, or make her loathe and despise you like she used to, but get it sorted out, and get it sorted out quickly."

"So how's this going to work. She doesn't want to speak to me,"

"We'll make her listen to whatever you want to tell her."

"Oh yeah, and how are we going to do that? Cuff her hands and tie her to the wall so she can't cover her ears or escape?"

"The sarcasm _isn't_ helping."

"So what's the plan then?"

And Lorelai proceeded to tell him.

------

"But Mum! I can just give it to him Monday! He doesn't need it right away!"

"Look, Rory. He came over here and dropped off your books when he could have left them at school. He took time out of his day to drop them off, and you should show him the same consideration."

"You didn't have to let him stay!"

"He didn't stay. He had a coffee – you know he likes Luke's coffee – with me and then left."

"That's letting him stay!"

"Rory. This isn't a discussion. Whatever there is between you and Tristan, I don't care. You're taking his jacket back today. I'll drop you off on the way to Grandma's."

Now Rory _was_ confused. "You're going to grandma's?"

"I am. I have to sort out something about your tuition and your grandmother refusing to pay it anymore, because apparently you've turned into me and all hope is lost."

Immediately Rory felt awful, putting her mother through something like that, and all because of a moment of bad – pretty damned awful, now that she thought about it – judgement on her part. Even _if_ making out with Tristan hadn't been a huge mistake, she could have used a little common sense and waited till she was somewhere _other_ than her grandparent's place.

"Sorry."

"You aren't yet, but you will be," her mother replied, the cheeky flash in her eyes letting her daughter know that the words weren't meant seriously. "But I'm serious. You need to take Tristan's jacket back. It won't take long."

Rory hesitated once again, contemplating asking her mother why she was so insistent on her talking to Tristan, but at the same time knowing that it would only bring another conversation about that night at her grandma's. So reluctantly giving in, she just nodded. "Fine."

------

Rory hated that she seemed to have found herself in this position once again, standing on his doorstep awaiting someone answering the door. So far, she'd heard no sounds that indicated life of any kind, and she turned back to look at her mum, shrugging to indicate she didn't think anyone was home. Her mother mimed pushing the doorbell again, and so she did, this time more enthusiastically, pushing it several times in succession, creating one of the most awful noises imaginable with those generally beautiful chimes.

"I don't think anyone's home!" she called back to her mother, and almost had a heart attack when she turned back to the door.

Someone was standing there and it certainly wasn't the butler.

"You," he spoke calmly, one brow arching to his forehead in that attractive and excessively annoying cocky gesture.

She had absolutely no time for any of his crap today, and merely thrust the black leather jacket at him with a dark scowl. "You left this at my place when you were sucking up to my mum," she snarled, and when her dark anger only drew an amused smile, she felt like striking that smug expression off his face. She didn't get to however, because she became far too focussed on her mother reversing down the drive.

"Wait… _Mum!_" she yelled, forgetting Tristan and his arrogant ways as she turned and raced after her mother. "What are you doing? You can't just…"

But it was too late, for her mother had reached the road, driving off and leaving her standing there at the end of the driveway.

"_Bitch_," she hissed under her breath, before a low chuckle made her whip around suddenly.

"You know… Since I've actually come to know you, I realise you're not half as innocent as you used to pretend."

"What the hell are you―"

"I'm sorry," he replied, cutting her off and darkening her glare further. "But since when have you used words like _'fucking'_ and _'bitch'_… Or did I just miss those before?"

"Screw you."

"You almost did once, remember?"

Her cry of outrage was more than warranted for that one, and when she turned, starting to walk down the street, he gripped her arm and used her momentum to turn her around in a half circle so she was facing him again; her close proximity almost overwhelming.

"Hey wait. Let me call you cab."

She sneered at him. "And why the hell would you give me the opportunity to leave when you so obviously want to keep me here to torture me more with your arrogant and insufferable personality?" she asked, one brow sliding to her forehead, her eyes flashing at him dangerously.

He had to admit she looked hot when she was angry with him.

"If I remember correctly, it was your mother who bailed."

Rory allowed her confusion to furrow her brow at that. She was terribly confused as to why her mother would do such a thing unless…

"_Oh god!_"

Tristan's silent, questioning expression just caused her to shake her head, and she allowed him to lead her back up the driveway. "I think I might take you up on that cab…" she said faintly.

How could this have happened? How could her mother have got it into her head that she and Tristan needed time alone? That was perhaps one of the worst ideas in the history of the world. She and Tristan had never really done so well when alone together. Usually it ended in a fight, and once…

She shook those thoughts from her head as he led her over the threshold and back into his glorious house. She had to admit that it was incredible. It was impossible not to notice such an amazing house, and this was more so than most. His parents must be completely _loaded_. Which was probably why he thought that he could have anything that he wanted, she thought with a mental sneer. Well he had wanted her at some point, and he had been sorely disappointed. She smirked. It'd probably do him good.

"Phone's there," he offered, pointing it out, and Rory made her hurried way over to that phone, snatching the expensive looking everyday item from it expensive looking cradle and beginning to dial.

"You know… There's something I'm confused about."

"Well I never thought you were the smartest guy in the world, so I'm not really surprised," she offered as she finished dialling, holding the phone up to her ear and listening to the quiet ringing; waiting for someone to pick up.

"You're not even curious?"

"About why you're confused?" she asked, and when he nodded, she shrugged. "Not terribly. I just want to get the hell out of here."

She sighed in disgust when she got a hold message.

"Apparently they're busy."

"Yeah," she snapped back. "Maybe there are hundreds of girls around this city who are stranded at an arrogant asshole's house and desperately need to escape," she offered sweetly, and was dismayed when her withering comment drew not dismay but amusement to his face.

"You know… You're getting better at that," he offered, and she shrugged.

"You give me some great practice and a perfect target. What can I say?" she answered with a shrug, and he chuckled, moving towards her.

Rory swallowed suddenly at his sudden closeness, backing hastily away until she found herself with her back to wall, the phone cradled protectively against her shoulder, close enough to her ear so that she could still hear that stupid hold music.

When he reached out, her first thought was that he was going to kiss her, his hand moving to cradle her cheek, and she hated the way her heart pounded in anticipation of a kiss that had last time left her completely breathless. She was disappointed – and she _hated_ that fact – when instead he merely gripped the phone, attempting to tug it out of her very secure grip.

"You don't want to leave."

"Wow… you don't know just how wrong that assumption is," she offered, her voice sickeningly sweet, her eyes filled with her derisive sarcasm. Oh how she hated that cocky smile!

"Well if you leave, you'll never hear my apology, and seeing as they don't really come around too often, I wouldn't want you to miss out."

She simply snorted in derision, shaking her head. "You're apology? For what? Being born an ass?"

"For being an ass to _you_."

"Huh."

So surprised was she that Tristan succeeded suddenly in his attempt to recapture the phone, pulling it from her fingers, and in vain she attempted to regain her possession. Holding the phone up and away from her seeking hands, pressing the button and hanging up, she instead planted her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side.

"Okay. Shoot. Give me your apology so I can get the hell out of here."

Tristan looked amused. "That was it."

"That? Telling me what you've done wrong is your apology? Wow… You really suck at this, don't you?"

He shrugged. "I've had very little practice."

Rory laughed mirthlessly. "Well let me assure you right now, you need a hell of a lot _more_ practice before people might actually _believe_ what you're saying."

"You don't believe me?" he asked, stepping towards her, and she pressed her back harder against the wall, attempting to keep herself as far as possible from him; failing miserably.

"No," she stated calmly, defiantly, even as he took another step towards her and his proximity started to make her head fuzzy. "I don't."

"Really?" he asked, one brow quirking to his forehead in that attractive expression, and she felt her heart pounding erratically in her chest, her eyes flicking from his and landing on something he seemed to have completely forgotten. "Because I mean it."

"If you meant it, and you really _were_ sorry, you'd give me that phone and let me go."

Rory was more than a little surprised when Tristan handed the phone over without a question, taking a step away again and turning slightly from her to glance at the front door, suddenly and inexplicably conceding to her. Still, despite her confusion at this sudden reversal, she didn't hesitate to redial the number of the cab company, holding the phone to her ear as the familiar hold music began playing once again in her ear.

"You know I didn't think that you would believe me."

"Well that makes you at least a little brighter. I suppose there's hope for you yet," she replied bitingly, eagerly anticipating that moment when the real voice would interrupt this ridiculous music in her ear. "I'd have to be crazy."

"Maybe you are."

Rory was automatically back on the defensive; her blue eyes flashing. "Excuse me?"

Tristan just shrugged. "Well you've already told me quite clearly just how much you dislike me, but at the same time, you can't seem to stay away."

"My _mother_ made me come here today," she stated fiercely, her eyes flashing dangerously while inside she was a complete mess. Did he _know_ she liked him? If so, how did he know? She'd certainly never given him any clue as to feeling that way. Not at all.

"Yeah, I know. You've made that clear enough."

She nodded decisively, before cursing silently at the phone when it continued to tell her that her call was really important, and how all their operators were busy. This was ridiculous. If she could think of the number of another cab company, she'd call _them_. As it was, Tristan's effect on her had limited thought enough so that this number was all she could remember.

"You know… I've always wondered how you ever could have liked someone like me."

There was something about his voice now that confused her, her brows pulling slightly together over the bridge of her nose as she watched the back of his head as he moved away into the living room. Almost automatically, she followed him, the phone still to her ear, and watched as he collapsed heavily onto one of those luxurious looking couches.

"What do you mean?"

Her voice remained defensive, but her curiosity got the better of her, and she found that she _had_ to ask. As ridiculous as she knew that was, she couldn't seem to help herself. Everything about this guy was an enigma, and learning more was generally a fascinating enough way to pass time when one had to wait for this _stupid_ cab company to answer the damn phone.

Tristan turned to look at her again, his eyes catching her curiosity; that brilliant grin reappearing. "Now you want to know my life story?" he asked; brow quirking to his forehead. "I thought you wanted to get the hell out of here."

"I do, but these people won't pick up their damn phone!" she snapped, her eyes narrowing again almost immediately. "But while we wait, enlighten me. Why couldn't someone like me ever like someone like you?"

He just shrugged disinterestedly. "You're too _good_."

"Too good?"

"That's what I said, didn't I?"

Rory shrugged. "I just thought I heard you wrong. I'd have thought it was your goal in life to deflower every Mary you could."

Tristan just grinned wryly at her derisive comment, chuckling and confusing her all over again.

"Now, now, Mary… I've only ever wanted to do that with you."

Rory's eyes automatically narrowed again, and unconsciously she took a step back when he rose back to his feet, and turned towards her. Still, despite her outward disgust, she couldn't help – or help hating – the way that her heart lurched suddenly in her chest, her stomach contracting at the very idea.

"Well it'll be good for you to realise that you can't have everything you want."

He smirked at that, continuing towards her, and she continued to back up until she found herself caught against another wall as he approached. "Me Rory? I always get everything I want. _Always_."

"Well things change," she answered as he continued to approach, once again causing her heart to flutter and her head to become fuzzy, even as she was fighting off rising panic.

He merely shrugged at her response, continuing towards her. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"Get the hell away from me, Tristan!"

In her voice he heard that sudden panic, her eyes widening in fear, and he recoiled from her when he realised what he was doing. Reminding her of Malachi and what he'd done was not his intention, and he froze where he was; cursing himself.

"Oh god… I'm sorry," he apologised, his voice sincerely repentant.

This was all just not going well. It was obvious that Rory disliked him as much as she had used to. At least he'd done as her mother had wished, and it wasn't as though back then things had been so bad. They'd had occasionally decent conversations, although now things might be…

Suddenly soft lips against his brought his mind crashing back to the present, and for a long moment, he couldn't figure out what the hell had just happened. Confusion spread across his face, reflected in the dark blue of his eyes. Fixing his eyes on those of Rory, he noticed her slight hesitation, biting her bottom lip in nervous uncertainty. Then, almost as though experimenting with something she wasn't so sure about, she leaned up and touched his lips with hers again in a soft, sweet, and _very_ innocent lingering kiss; a kiss he returned without thought.

Oh god! Since when had such a kiss even remotely got to him in such a way? What the hell was it about this girl that had him so addicted?

That kiss seemed to last forever, her lips gently brushing against his and it was only when he slowly began to deepen that kiss that she pulled away again, her brows furrowed in what looked to be complete and utter confusion.

"Rory…" he spoke then, his voice quiet as though not wanting to startle her away, and completely filled with utter confusion. "What the _hell_ just happened?"

She paused, her eyes moving over his face for a moment before searching his, as though attempting to find something that she couldn't quite place.

"You're right," she answered his question simply, a look of almost dismayed realisation written now across her face, a slight frown turning down the corners of those perfect lips.

"Right about what?"

She shrugged slightly. "I _am_ crazy."

It took Tristan a while to figure out what the hell she meant by that, but suddenly comprehension dawned, and his brows rose to his forehead in amusement. "Crazy, huh?"

Her mouth twitched as though she might smile, and just shrugged. "I'm as surprised as you."

"Yeah… Cause you _hate_ me, right?"

She nodded, allowing confusion – this time playful – to cross her face. "Right."

This time as he kissed her, he made it slow and deep, and the faint beep that meant she'd hung up the phone made him smile against her lips as her arms slid up and around his neck, pulling him closer. His smile only deepened when he heard the phone clatter to the floor moments later as numb fingers lost their grip. She felt his smile it seemed, and pulled away again, her question tugging at those slender dark brows. "What?"

His grin merely widened. "I told you I always get what I want," he explained, a low chuckle escaping his throat when annoyance crossed her face.

"You know… You really are insufferably arrogant."

Tristan just shrugged with a smile. "And you can't help but adore it."

She paused momentarily, her eyes studying his carefully, an almost wary expression on her face, and when she opened her mouth to reply – he knew her answer would be a negative before she uttered a word – he met her lips in another slow, very deep kiss, his tongue moving to begin a long duel with hers.

Returning his kiss with equal fervour, lost once again in the utter perfection of those lips, that mouth, it was several minutes before she pulled away again, breathing heavily, glad that she had the wall behind her for support as well as the arms she had around his neck, her fingers brushing through the short hair at the nape of his neck.

"Tristan?"

His breathing was also heavy as he responded; his hands resting on either side her head on the wall as though he needed the support. "Yeah?"

"Do you think I could get a ride home?"

Tristan just chuckled softly at her question. "Sure."

THE END


	14. Epilogue: The Way Some Things Change

**Authors Note: **Okay… So someone suggested I write an epilogue, and I had this wicked awesome idea, so I decided… Okay. Hell yes! I'll write an epilogue. _**Warning**_, however… This _might_ destroy all that I've written up till now, and you may hate me for it, but this is a prime example of how life and relationships work.

For those who do decide to plough on, thanks for reading, and let me know what you think…

* * *

Rory looked up at the vast entranceway of what had, until only a few moments ago, been her high school. 

Chilton had been everything that she'd been looking for in a school, and it had given her everything that she had ever wanted. Colleges accepted her left, right and centre, and she had to admit that she was having fair trouble deciding between two – Harvard; a school she had wanted to attend for what seemed like forever, and Yale; an equally amazing school with everything she'd want or need right there on campus. Not to mention the latter was so much closer…

She shook those thoughts from her head, realising what she was doing, and feeling like it ruined this moment. Saying goodbye to the school that had given her everything.

She still couldn't believe that she had finally graduated. Graduation had seemed like years away in the beginning – not only because it was – and seemed like some faraway fairytale that could never be realised in any semblance of reality. Slowly, time had crept away however, and before she'd known it she was in the middle of her last year there, the final exams creeping up on her… It had been almost surreal, and Rory almost couldn't believe that she was here right now.

She really would miss it here.

Sighing, she turned back to her mother, who stood watching her with an almost permanent smile fixed on her face, her bright blue eyes twinkling merrily at the girl she had told several times today that she was so very proud of. Rory knew that her mother was having a far easier time believing that she had graduated. Lorelai had watched her progress through her schooling from a safe distance, watching her study, watching her ace test after test, until finally the exams had come and everything – life as she had known it for so many years – ended.

"You're going to miss it, aren't you?" Lorelai asked, her amusement shining in her eyes, and when Rory nodded slowly, the woman's smile widened. "You really are one of a kind, Rory. I imagine most students are going to be glad to be rid of it.

Rory just smiled at that, looking down and saying nothing. Sure, there were some things about school that she would never miss. But it seemed almost wrong that this would be the last time she would ever walk these halls, and she was almost loathe leaving it for the last time.

"You ready?"

Rory looked up again with another smile and nodded. "Sure," she offered, turning and feeling the graduation robes billow around her feet. Walking with her mother down the long and deserted hall, Rory couldn't help but recognise several landmarks around her that brought back memories of her time here.

It had been there, after all, in that classroom just across the hall from where she and her mother walked, that she and Tristan DuGrey had first met. Cocky and arrogant from the first, she had to admit that it hadn't been love at first sight; nothing even remotely close. If truth be told, she had resented him for a great deal of her first year here.

Romeo and Juliet had changed everything of course. After much fighting, drama, a couple of breakups with Dean, and several moments where she'd honestly wished he would quite literally go to hell and leave her alone, they'd managed to work things out, and she'd had the second boyfriend of her life.

She shouldn't really have expected it to last, of course. Things had always been pointing in that direction. Tristan had a hard time doing commitment, and she had never really believed him capable of it. She'd trusted him on and off over the year that they were together, but towards the end, she really believed that he was unhappy with their relationship as it stood – that he missed his player lifestyle; missed being the 'King of Chilton', for he had surrendered the title to another once they'd begun dating.

Even though, a few months after they'd begun dating, she still didn't quite trust him where this whole 'commitment' thing was concerned, she had still allowed herself to go alone to his house, and there had succumbed to the temptation that was everything about him. So inherently sexual, and so good at what he did, Rory had been unable to fight the temptation to allow herself to be seduced by him.

After that, things seemed to get better between them, their relationship deepening to a level she'd never achieved before, and she quickly found herself completely falling for the guy. It was six months later when she realised that he wasn't returning the favour.

Instead, Tristan seemed to be almost pulling away, finding increasingly less time to spend with his girlfriend, becoming exceptionally gifted at discovering new and improved excuses as to why he couldn't come see her, or couldn't have her visit him. In the end she stopped trying.

Knowing that a breakup was inevitable, and knowing that very little at this point would really help their relationship continue, Rory took the initiative and cornered Tristan with his friends outside the cafeteria one day at school. When he'd refused to leave his group of friends however, and have a conversation with her in private, she had instead laid out the facts as they stood, broken up with him, and simply walked away.

She ignored his calls to come back.

After that, things settled down into a slightly more tolerable version of their earlier relationship, the only thing missing the constant antagonism he'd offer her. In fact, he rarely spoke to her at all if he could help it, almost as though insisting to prove to himself that she didn't exist. Despite this, she continued to say hello when they bumped into one another, thinking it ridiculous and childish that he should be acting so when they'd been dating almost a year.

Tristan of course, settled back into his usual player lifestyle, and although at first it had hurt to see him with other girls, slowly it meant less and less, until finally it no longer bothered her. Tristan was Tristan. Someone she'd cared for a great deal, sure, but someone too who she'd tried a relationship with that hadn't worked out, and now they were both moving on.

Rory flipped her – shorter now – dark hair over her shoulder, her bright blue eyes casting one last glance at the building halls of the building she'd known so long as school, before following her mother to the car her grandparents had gotten her for graduation. Now _that_ had been a shock.

"So I'll see you at home, sweetie?" she asked, and Rory nodded with a smile, hugging her mother tightly for a moment before the older woman turned and left her there with one last quick backwards wave.

Standing by the brand new car for a moment, still in disbelief that she actually had one now, she allowed her bright blue eyes to wander around at all those students who stood in the car park still, most of them more than likely doing the same thing as she was.

It was then that her eyes met his, blue meeting blue in a stare that had been shared in so many different ways over the course of their time here. Standing frozen, she could do nothing but stare, able to take a moment to note that his new car was some brand new convertible thing that she had no doubt was some brand new style only just come in at the dealership, but otherwise unable to think of little else.

It was then that he offered her a small smile, a brief wave, and surprised, Rory offered one back. It had been more than she'd been expecting, of course. More than perhaps anything he'd offered during their time at school since their breakup. It seemed odd that he should choose now to approach; now to make an attempt at some sort of reconciliation.

Or did it?

Was it really so surprising that he would choose now to attempt to make things nice between them; to try _something_, whatever it was, for he was now weaving his way through the cars in the car park towards her. Now, when school was over and done with. He was King of Chilton no longer, and all of a sudden he had time for Rory Gilmore again.

Turning her gaze from his, she clicked the button on her keyless entry, and pulled open her door, sliding into the driver's seat and pulling the door closed behind her. She could see in her rear-view mirror Tristan now jogging to catch her, and even as she started the car, he reached her window, knuckles rapping on the beautifully clean glass.

"Rory?"

She glanced out her window, bright blue eyes fixing on his and seeing in them that keen interest he'd shown so long ago, back in the day. She was right. King of Chilton gone, Rory was his next best choice. She laughed softly to herself, shaking her head.

"I have nothing more to say to you, Tristan DuGrey," she told him simply, before her eyes moved from his, looking away for the last time.

Rory drove away and she didn't look back. Some things, no matter how great, ended. There was no getting them back. It was just the way that some things changed.


End file.
